


Pacing Ourselves

by vermillion_crown



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: ALRIGHT VIKTUURI IS FUCKING CANON, As canon as it can be, Canon Compliant, Developing Relationship, Exploring Sexuality, I tried ok, M/M, Without all the translation nuances and frame by frame analysis, Yuuri's POV, best friends being little shits but in the best way, copious texting, demisexual!katsuki yuuri, ep 10 compliant, idk what the heck to tag this as, phichit and yuuri text and are terrible, slow burn romance hell, they will bang but not immediately, trying to follow each episode, will feature the exhibition
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:11:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 57,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8534440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vermillion_crown/pseuds/vermillion_crown
Summary: Introspection on intimacy from the perspective of a demisexual, flavored with friends who are social media menaces and some dirty touching later on.(Yuuri's trying to figure out his life after Viktor Nikiforov smashes into it like a meteor, and Phichit can't decide whether to help or laugh.)





	1. Episode 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just really in love with this series. Never have I seen an anime that shows a developing relationship that is healthy and enjoyable to watch, with a cast of characters that are diverse and subversive to common tropes, and it's legit queer.
> 
> And the main character is no.1 relatable. Katsuki Yuuri is someone I'd see myself being friends with, and like being friends with. And his growth in all facets of his relationships is something I can identify with, so I wanted to write something that draws on my experience being demi and the ups and downs of it.
> 
> This is unbeta'd as heck.

The first time Yuuri gives thought to physical contact with someone is when his puppy love for Yuuko awakens. He is eleven years old, and Yuuko helps him up off the ice for the umpteenth time after Nishigori bumps him. She usually makes to help him up but allows Yuuri to recover on his own, but today's incident looks particularly bad and her hands are on him in an instant.

He is aware that his face is numb but throbbing from hitting the ice, but Yuuko's strong grip shouldn't feel so warm through her gloves and his sweater. This is the first time that anyone, besides his parents when he was sick or scared, besides some roughhousing with his older sister Mari, or his ballet instructor Minako, has held him. Even then, his parents have held him since birth, Mari's arms were more casual, and Minako's hands were light and instructive.

Yuuko is none of those four, and her hands held him differently. It's not an intimate touch, but Yuuri feels himself fall in love and wishes that those hands could change positions and place him in a hug just as strong.

Yuuko is his first love and he is resolute with that thought, even when the years go by. The years go by and they both discover Viktor Nikiforov, the god on ice. How can someone only four years older than him make the entire world look as though it was spinning about his blade, and not the other way around? Yuuko and Yuuri both are enthralled by Viktor Nikiforov, and slowly their lives become defined by the older male's life from far away. The two mimic his programs, read up on his glamorous life, and play make-believe that they are world-famous figure skaters and able to meet their idol on the same stage. Yuuri's parents, so ecstatic that their son finding happiness one way or another, indulge him by getting a small brown poodle reminiscent of Viktor Nikiforov's larger canine companion.

The years go by and Yuuri overhears lewd talk in the locker room. He never lingers because he's had enough trouble as a child, chubby and timid and into ballet, that camaraderie and fun aren't the first thoughts in his mind when a group of guys congregate. They talk about 'Emi-chan' or someone in jocular tones, implying this or that in between snickers. Yuuri is put off from the talk and quickly makes his way home for the day, eager to finish his homework so that he can meet Yuuko and Nishigori at the skating rink. The boys' words flash back to his mind, and his unquestioned love for Yuuko is being challenged.

If he loves her, it would seem natural to think of doing sexual things with her, right? But Yuuri digs back in time, from his present age 16 to 15, 14, 13, the first time that his developing body makes itself known. He's touched himself before - understood that small part of sexuality - but realizes that any thought of Yuuko has always been divorced from physical reaction. He blushes and his heart beats wild when she smiles at him, or when she pulls him along the ice. Those reactions are love enough. But the thought of being closer, fingers laced, a warm sweet breath against his face makes Yuuri drop his pencil and he spends five minutes trying to fish it out from behind his desk. Vicchan, full name Victor, nuzzles up to him while he's on the floor and distracts Yuuri for a moment.

He sits back down, an exasperated sigh escapes his mouth as he looks at all the Viktor Nikiforov posters around his room. Each perfect face seems to be smiling indulgently at him. "I bet you don't have any problems with girls," Yuuri comments dryly to his silent, unmoving audience. Viktor Nikiforov, in the middle of his art, always elicits hope and determination within Yuuri. He laughs and thinks that as long as he can admit to Yuuko that he loves her and if all goes well, this disconnect between mind and body will disappear. After all, love is natural, right? His foot gently nudges Vicchan on the floor and the little brown poodle is wagging his tail hard enough to be vibrating Yuuri's leg.

Yuuri loses his opportunity. He's graduating high school and running out of time, but Nishigori beats him to it. He walks in on them at Ice Castle Hasetsu, Nishigori uncharacteristically somber and quiet. Yuuko blushes prettily from afar, and when Nishigori holds his hand out she meets him halfway with her own hand.

He hurts a little, but a part of him sighs in relief. He still is in question on the physical nature of loving someone, and not having the opportunity to face that hard question is the silver lining. Two years were not enough to figure it out, and a fleeting worry says that he might never figure it out.

But he still loves her, and is glad that his decision to move to the United States for school and figure skating will put some distance between her and his confused, aching heart.

* * *

Yuuri has a second evaluation on physical intimacy. He concludes that he sucks at understanding it.

Two years in Detroit, he gains a new rinkmate. Phichit Chulanont is his fast friend, both boys foreign in the same country. They share the same coach and soon, the same apartment.

For all that Phichit is three years younger than him, he learns his way around college life faster than Yuuri did. Phichit is a social butterfly, knows everyone, and is invited to all the parties. By virtue of being his friend, Phichit wholeheartedly wants Yuuri to have fun, and always invites him along.

It's a first for Yuuri to interact with his peers in such a casual setting. A cheap beer is in his hand and he's on the periphery of some random conversation about something or another. Someone says a joke that is slightly funny and he chuckles along with the group. Phichit is doing shots in the kitchen and Yuuri thinks with amusement that Coach Celestino will have the Thai boy paying for it thricefold in practice. Yuuri continues to nurse his beer and suddenly, the attention of the group is on him.

"So Yuuri, Janice seems to be into you," a guy leaning against the couch comments.

The phrase strikes him as odd, but he doesn't know who this 'Janice' is. "Janice?" he says as such.

Two giggling girls that are part of the group look Yuuri up and down (he starts to feel self-conscious about his flannel button-down, but it seems to be a thing here so hopefully he didn't look awkward), and they casually gesture with a nod off towards another corner of the party. Yuuri follows the gesture and his eyes land on a girl with long blond hair and a smirk on bright lips.

Yuuri smiles back tentatively but returns to the conversation. His hand idles on the rolled up sleeve of his shirt, and he starts to feel as though he's missed some crucial joke. "I... don't think I know her?"

Jeers and snickers of "Katsuki's playing hard-to-get!" answer that. Yuuri sullenly thinks that his acquaintances are "hard to get". Sometimes, he really doesn't understand his peers.

One of the boys in the group, who was hanging off of his boyfriend's shoulder, takes a swig of whatever foul drink in his hand and then says, "Well, she definitely wants to get to know you." He smirks and continues, "I'd want to get to know you, too," and his boyfriend mock-slaps him on his head.

 _But you already know me_ , Yuuri's slightly inebriated mind is trying so hard to catch up in this conversation.

Naturally, Phichit picks up this topic from the group chat in the following days and proceeds to start inviting Janice to gatherings. It becomes a headache and a half when Phichit continuously Instagrams their outings, and Yuuri notices that Janice stands really close when it's time for the Group Selfie.

And Janice asks to hang out with Yuuri, just Yuuri. She stops by after his practices and gives him bottled water. They eat lunch together in between classes. She is quite pretty, with nice hair and sweet expressions, but slightly off-putting with how much she smiles around him. He feels like her energy is limitless and he is impolite to not keep up, but he's frustrated that he's made to keep up at all.

His friends are irritating, always bringing up Janice more than they have to. "Yes, she's pretty," Yuuri answers exasperatedly, "I have to finish this lab report so can you guys just-"

And Janice, as kind and sweet and funny as she is, starts to feel like a wall closing in on him. She sits closer. Her hands accidentally brush against his more than they should. The faint scent of her perfume is distracting more often than not. The pictures of them together, whether it is on her Instagram or Snapchat or Phichit's accounts, feel like he's being exposed.

It all resolves when Yuuri gets a nonchalant text from Phichit asking if he could bring his laptop to room 243 of the nearby hospital. Yuuri feels his heart drop when he realizes that Phichit is injured. Janice naturally worries as well, and the two throw away their lunch and go to see their friend.

Yuuri is in the waiting room, as Phichit is still in examination. Their coach is there, and Yuuri tentatively asks about the injury.

"His ankle, definitely; landed wrong after a triple axel. Hopefully nothing wrong with his head - he hit the ice pretty hard," Celestino answers gruffly.

Yuuri nods and sits back down. Janice's eyes are blinking fast, but she's not crying. Yuuri whispers what Coach Celestino told him to Janice, and she shifts closer to hear him better. He leans back after, but she follows him.

Janice lets out a sympathetic noise, and suddenly her arms are wrapped around him. "It'll be okay, Yuuri." She's warm and her perfume is pleasant, but Yuuri wants out of her embrace. He's already afraid for his friend and uncomfortable, and this sudden intrusion into his personal space is almost offensive.

He stands up suddenly, her hold breaking, and declares that he needs fresh air before stepping out quickly. Celestino texts him twenty minutes later that Phichit free for visitors, and he comes back inside to his friend's room. Janice is not present.

Phichit is fine; his ankle is merely sprained, and there is no lasting head injury. Yuuri places the laptop next to Phichit while he is busy Instagramming his new splint.

"Glad you're okay," Yuuri says.

Phichit smiles. "Me too; that was crazy," he chuckles. The two of them somber up when the reality of career-ending injuries invade their minds. Phichit quickly changes the subject. "Apparently, Janice was with you? Ciao Ciao said she left after you went outside?"

Yuuri snorts at their coach's nickname. "She was... But yeah, she left."

"Where did she go?"

Yuuri is exasperated, which is becoming too common of an occurrence. "I was more worried about my friend's injury to ask. She didn't message me so I assumed it didn't matter."

Phichit lets out a whine and Yuuri backs up in alarm. "A-Are you in pain?! I'll get the nurse!"

"You're so oblivious!!! I've been trying to set you up with her! You practically pushed the poor girl away when she was trying to comfort you!"

Yuuri sees that Phichit's phone is on the screen of Janice's message thread. The last message was from Janice fifteen minutes ago.

"... is that what that was?" Yuuri felt his face color. For one, he was oblivious. And he feels slightly violated that his friends colluded to manipulate his love life. He tries to justify his obliviousness. "I was genuinely worried about you! How could I think about getting with some girl when my friend is in the hospital?!"

Phichit smiled sheepishly, knowing that Yuuri's seen his messaging and gives it up. "Now I feel really bad - I made you worry this much, and I ruined her chances with you."

While Yuuri is annoyed, he tries to assuage his friend with the fact that it wouldn't have worked out in the first place. "Well, the whole time, I thought she was being... weird? Like, Janice is nice and all, but it just... felt like I was being corralled or something. And I wasn't paranoid because all of you were plotting!"

Phichit laughs easily enough. "Yep, every last one of us," he sells out the rest of their friend group with ease.

"...Thanks but no thanks - I can't help who I like or don't like, and it wasn't fair to Janice," Yuuri says reproachfully.

Phichit claps his hands together and bows his head in acquiescence. "Okay, okay Yuuri; we'll stop interfering with your love life."

Yuuri sighs but laughs as well. "There's not much to interfere with."

* * *

His love life, or the absence of, is moved to the back burner for the next few years. Coach Celestino sees real potential in Yuuri to succeed, and pushes him so that at age 23, he stands on the stage of the Grand Prix Final in Sochi.

Yuuri's heart is threatening to shatter from nerves. He looks across the rink and sees Viktor Nikiforov in the flesh.

He thinks he can implode from sheer anxious joy. He receives a call from his mother, and he lets out an indulgent sigh. He knows that she probably forgot that he was due on the ice in an hour, and just wanted to check up on her son.

One phone call later and a devastating spectacle on ice, and Yuuri forgets that the day ever started out well.

He is ashamed. Even just standing in the atrium, he feels like an unseemly intruder. If it were any other time or situation, Yuuri would have eagerly stammered a shaky ‘yes’ to his idol’s offer of a commemorative photo together.

Yuuri remembers the daydreams, the make-believe with Yuuko. _If I were a famous ice skater... I'd want Viktor Nikiforov to see me - no, I'd want to skate on the same ice as him!_ Thinking of Yuuko at this time is ironic: he's missed his opportunity with her, and now he's made a mess of his opportunity with Viktor Nikiforov.

Five times crowned the king of figure skating, and Viktor Nikiforov got treated to some half-hearted and pathetic flailing on ice. And there was the salt in the wound - Viktor Nikiforov's question sounded like one to a fanboy. Was he so worthless that a fellow competitor didn't bother to remember his face?

The additional fact that a fifteen year old caught him crying in the bathroom was just part of the 'terrible day' package.

Yuuri's brain methodically walks through the events of the night. He made it to the Grand Prix Final, he was slated to skate 3rd, his mother called and told him that his Vicchan passed away, and then he blanks out on ice and barely managed two of his jumps without crashing. Viktor Nikiforov wins gold yet again, and offers him a commemorative photo like he was one of the man's faceless adoring fans.

Yuuri lets himself walk away.

* * *

He bombs the rest of the season, of course he does. The inevitable course for when he trips is to keep spiralling down.

“This can’t be the end of it,” Phichit said. “Things happened, you got shaken. That isn’t the end of it. You still love skating, don’t you?”

Yuuri does. He's had a few months to think on it, with the backdrop of Celestino's stern words. All he says is, "I'm sneaking down to the rink after homework, if you want to join." Phichit grins and nods.

The two of them sneak into the ice rink after hours, Yuuri worn thin from his schoolwork and Phichit grumbling about an essay he was procrastinating on. They skate circles around each other, play many of the little games that they’ve made up to pass the time on ice.

“Duuuude,” Phichit drawls exaggeratedly, the mocking term slowly becoming unironic in their diction the longer they stay in Detroit.

“Dude,” Yuuri chimes back, skating in lazy circles.

Phichit catches him by the arm, and the two start spinning around each other and drifting across the ice like binary stars. His friend is uncharacteristically serious.

“You can’t give up, okay? We’re going to skate together again."

Yuuri smiles softly and Phichit takes it as confirmation, lets loose his grip.

* * *

He graduates with little fanfare. His bachelor's degree is useful enough - if figure skating doesn't pan out, he can work for some firm or another. His body is soft again, stressed from eating and not eating, all nighters and lazy days alternating, and lack of consistently intense training. His time on the ice turns into a personal project, of sorts.

He arrives home and after being pulled this way and that by his former ballet instructor Minako, he settles in for dinner with his family. He is embarrassed to be called out for falling so far from his fit form barely three months ago, but his family respects that he'll make his own decisions and that he respects and appreciates his family's support.

After a quick prayer to Vicchan's altar, he beelines for Ice Castle Hasetsu. He hopes that Yuuko will be there, and that after meeting everyone else, seeing Yuuko will be the closure he needs to start anew.

Yuuri concludes that he still loves her, even if he can't give her any form of that love and she can't receive that love. He still needs to tell her. This feeling is the last thing holding him back from being a blank slate and trying to rediscover his love of figure skating without it being with respect to anyone other than himself. Even his admiration of Viktor Nikiforov is his own, and not something he owes his idol.

The only way he knows how to be his strongest, his most confident in his feelings (and isn't that ironic, after being nicknamed "the figure skater with the biggest glass heart") is when he's out on ice. He and Yuuko were tied together through their admiration of Viktor Nikiforov, and it's only fitting that he convey his feelings with a rendition of their idol's program.

It is Viktor Nikiforov's winning program from this year, and Yuuri's spent a month or two working on it. It was how he kept sane after the season and his schooling turned full-time. He would take to the rink after Celestino and his former rinkmates left, Phichit the one telling him their schedules, and just chip away at recreating Victor's performance from the grainy video of his phone night after night.

 _Stay With Me_ is the yearning dance of a soft-hearted, innocent young man who can't bear to let his lover go. Yuuri knows he will have to let Yuuko go, but he wants her to know. Despite everything, he wants his feelings to be seen.

The program is punishing no matter how many times he practices, but in the near-empty rink and without his glasses he can feel no pressure. All the jumps come easy, the steps natural, and the spins are meditative. Each gesture he sweeps out with his arms is everything that he feels towards Yuuko, gratitude and love from past til present. He knows she can't accept. He knows she's married, and has been sent pictures of her adorable triplet daughters. But he's loved her since he knew about love.

Yuuri's heartfelt confession is interrupted by Yuuko's daughters and Nishigori comes up to wrangle them. Yuuri doesn't know whether to feel exasperated that he has yet another lost opportunity to add to his growing tally, or be thankful that he doesn't have to deal with an undoubtedly awkward conversation.

In a way, the performance was cathartic enough that Yuuri feels like he's starting over already. He considers it all over and done with and spends the rest of his week lazing around, shoveling snow, and lightly exercising.

He doesn't realize that he's ruined his own life until a week later.

"W-what?!"

"I'm so sorry - the triplets were hiding and filming that whole time! If we'd had known-! And... it's gone viral..."

Yuuri hangs up on Nishigori. For all that he's bullied him as a child, Yuuri knows that Nishigori has his back now. He wouldn't have done this to mess with him intentionally.

The only thing worse would be if Viktor Nikiforov sees the viral video and laughs. Laughs long and hard at the spineless, chubby imitation of his winning choreography. Finds his profile on the JSF site, calls his number, and just laughs as soon as Yuuri picks up. And that'll be the end of Yuuri Katsuki.

Yuuri decides to just sleep forever. For the next 48 hours, he will sleep. Minako drunkenly stomps into the room and ruins that goal.

* * *

Yuuri has his life figured out, mostly. He loves figure skating. He has good friends in Phichit, Yuuko, Nishigori, and Minako. His parents and his sister love him. He has some weight to lose before getting back in the rink. Viktor Nikiforov is a terrific skater and still his idol. He'll probably never figure out if someone was flirting with him, or how to love someone beyond a concept.

The viral video, while mortifying, is fine. Just another tally mark of embarrassing things about him, a list in conjunction with the one on his lost opportunities.

His introspections do not account for the famous Russian skater to be bum-fucking naked, in his face, and declaring with a saucy wink that he will be Yuuri's new coach for the Grand Prix Final gold medal.

As Yuuri goes into severe denial catatonia, he begs himself not to look down the man's naked body.

Yuuri's traitor eyes look down. And learns the answer to those sordid questions about Viktor Nikiforov's body hair.

He politely indicates that his soul leaving his body via beached whale noises, and scrambles out of the onsen.

Yuuri _had_ it all figured out, and his life was like a neat little system with simple governing equations. And Viktor Nikiforov's naked body smashes into his carefully reassembled life that he just put back together.

* * *

**pchit_chu:** so ur getting back into skating

 **katsudon_y:** so twitter is telling me

 **pchit_chu:** more like "so says vikiforivs tweets"

 **pchit_chu:** ciao ciao will b thrilled

 **pchit_chu:** he was really worried abt u

 **katsudon_y:** ive probably dissappointed him enough for that to be a lie

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:** so i heard he was naked

 **pchit_chu:** did u bang

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:** PHICHIT no no no no no no

 **pchit_chu:** is this why janice didnt work out

 **pchit_chu:** dont no me im not the one w the crush on him since 11

 **katsudon_y:** phichit pls

 **pchit_chu:** even then i would humbly accept viktorforvs offerings

 **katsudon_y:** dont make me resort 2 begging in japanese phichit

 **pchit_chu:** mimicking his gpf fp is basically a love confession

 **katsudon_y:** im doing it お願い

 **katsudon_y:** やめろ

 **pchit_chu:** ok ok ill stop

 **pchit_chu:** pls dont implode

 **pchit_chu:** i want 2 see my friend @ gpf :)

 **katsudon_y:** :|

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have more stuff written but might not continue - I hope to get to at least post-episode 7. It'll be an exercise in actual smut so ha. haha. But I gotta do Viktor's black thong some justice.


	2. Episode 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, he should have chosen a less obvious username. And he feels like he should figure out why Viktor Nikiforov is so interested in his love(less) life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too cold to work in my apartment so I just curled up in bed and wrote some more.

The following weeks remind Yuuri why he has a love-hate relationship with social media. He doesn't have much of a presence on any platform - his Facebook is for friends and their unsightly photos of him; his Instagram (forcefully made by Phichit) is used for stalking the more famous skaters, the #dogsofinstagram tag (he's had to ignore that tag for a while, just until his loss of Vicchan doesn't rub as raw), occasional scenery photos from nighttime runs, and even more unsightly photos of him tagged. Twitter is for following the latest news on figure skating (or synonymously, Viktor Nikiforov), some memes here and there, some NASA and JAXA stuff (a classmate got him into it, and it's pretty awe-inspiring and relaxing to look at), and the occasional venting/shitposting he needs to do. Nobody - beyond Phichit and a few other discreet skaters, and his college friends - can connect **katsudon_y**  or the variations thereof to the JSF-certified figure skater Yuuri Katsuki. 

He's never dealt with mass opinion of him directly. There are the critics and coaches, other skaters, but that's within the small bubble of the rink. The audience is a nebulous, faceless entity.

Until now.

His hand is shaking at some of the more vehement comments in the #yuurikatsuki tag, and he breathes deep and closes the app. On second thought, he reopens the app, checks to see that his account hasn't gained any notoriety (they can spam his tag all they want, as long as he gets to yell about the travesty of Rice-O-Roni in peace on the internet at 3 am), and he logs out of the app before closing it. Once his phone is put away, Yuuri steels himself to deal with the next problem. Or is it a problem?

He has to restate the issue, for clarification. Viktor Nikiforov, five times Grand Prix Final gold medalist, the repeat world record breaker for figure skating, declared that he was going to coach Yuuri. He declared that Yuuri was going to the Grand Prix Final. He did all of this while standing up in the onsen. Which meant he was naked.

Yuuri's not body-shy; he's grown up at Yu-topia Katsuki and all sorts of naked bodies have been in his peripheral vision. And when his vision got fuzzy and the naked bodies became indistinct, he received corrective lenses and went right back to having naked bodies in his field of view.

But there's context for it all. And he's never accounted for any context that places his idol naked and stating outrageous things to his face. And it's doubly weird that his gestures seemed... they seemed to draw more attention to the fact that it was Viktor Nikiforov's naked and wet body. Yuuri shakes his head. He's not a pervert, and it creeps himself out to fixate on someone's body like he's doing. But that whole encounter was nonsensical and he's planning on wiping it from his mind and starting new with his idol, provided that the last hour wasn't a fever dream.

 **katsudon_y:**  how tf u know he was naked

 **pchit_chu:**  i pay attention

 **pchit_chu:**  rumors of viktorv dashing thru the st petersburg airprot

 **pchit_chu:**  some papa shots of him in fukuoka intl auport

 **pchit_chu:**  u live near there and u live in hot spring land

 **pchit_chu:**  i deduce that he was naked

 **katsudon_y:**  what on earth.

 **katsudon_y:**  u lie

 **pchit_chu:**  ha ur sister tweeted that "im going to laugh for ten million years my little brother is about to meet his lifelong idol up close and personal"

 **pchit_chu:**  "and by that i mean that the man is naked. hes fucking naked rn"

_katsudon_y is typing..._

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  stop following my sister

 **pchit_chu:**  she's so funny tho

 **pchit_chu:**  also hse likes my occasional update photo of u

 **katsudon_y:**  u promised to stop plotting

 **katsudon_y:**  my dying wish is that i can expose u for the conniving terror that u r

 **pchit_chu:**  hey if the rumors r true

 **pchit_chu:**  viktkiforo is there to marry u and u can fulfill TWO dying wishes

 **katsudon_y:**  end me

He's going to ignore Phichit to the ends of the Earth. Yuuri has decided right there and then, that this friendship has done him no good whatsoever and he wants a refund.

He returns to the common area after running off and cooling down in his room. His mother and father are there, along with the busy sounds of his older sister moving heavy things. And Viktor Nikiforov, clad in the thin jinbei of their onsen, is sleeping like a fallen angel on the tatami mat. His arms are wrapped around his large, snoozing poodle, and Yuuri heart aches at the dog and the beauty of display.

Minako stomps in to disrupt his peace again. "Are the rumors true?! They say that Viktor Nikiforov flew out from Russia to be your coach!!!"

Yuuri is so tired of social media. He'll gladly take the title of "Old Man Ex-Figure Skater Yells At Clouds" if it meant that someone, anyone besides him, can acknowledge that it's fucking ridiculous that the entirety of the Internet knows more about the future of his skating career than he does.

Yuuri's mother is cheerfully de-escalating Minako's mania. "Oh, Vicchan is already here!"

The intense woman is at a loss for words. Yuuri feels like he should be... ashamed or responsible somehow? But he does agree with the facial expression on Minako. That is exactly his internal dialogue at the moment. His phone is buzzing and no doubt Phichit has dug up more rumors and is ready to gossip like it isn't the middle of the day for him and he should be in class, damnit.

After a bit more gesticulating on Minako's part, she clarifies. "It's really big in Russia right now! It's already been confirmed that he's taking the next season off for some reconsideration, but seeing as your video was trending at the same time..."

Yuuri isn't making the connection. Minako huffs and reiterates.

"The rumors say that he saw your video and flew here to coach you! He chose _you_! Which means... you're the cause of him being here! It's incredible!" He knows that, but then he'd have to reconcile that fact with...

Yuuri promised himself to wipe his mind clean, but so far, he's not succeeding.

He hears movement, a small sneeze, and a low, sleep-satisfied moan before Viktor Nikiforov's silver head pops up from behind the table. The man's robe is sliding down one sculpted shoulder, and he turns his head to give a drowsy stare and sleepy mumble in Russian and then English, "...hungry."

Yuuri decides to fret over feeding his idol instead of dealing with the stomach-chilling sensation caused by the look that Viktor Nikiforov was giving him. Nope, no, he's just tired, he's just very sleepy. _Go to sleep, Viktor Nikiforov, and dream of victory._  He can't make the man go back to sleep, so food it is.

The topic moves to Yuuri's weight while Viktor Nikiforov is scarfing down his favorite dish, the katsudon. Minako mentions in smooth English that Yuuri was only allowed to eat katsudon as a reward for winning competitions because of his poor metabolism.

"Oh, so have you been eating this dish lately?"

Yuuri feels like it's a dream. His idol is here, in his family inn's robes, asking about his favorite food. "Yes, yes! I eat it pretty often!" Hopefully he didn't sound like he was having an aneurysm. He's sick of ruining his opportunities, and he's just praying that he sounded calm and didn't stutter.

"Why is that? It's not like you've won anything in a while!"

Yuuri's expression stays the same but he can feel his spirit drifting from his body.

"With that porky body of yours, any sort of lessons would be meaningless. You need to get down your weight from last year's Grand Prix Final, at the very least... or I won't coach you."

Viktor Nikiforov's smile is beautiful but so, so very sharp. "So! There will be no more katsudon for you, okay little piglet?"

Yuuri is still smiling, Viktor Nikiforov is still smiling, and the world is still turning. But his head is reeling from the first, real encounter with his idol. He's so beautiful but his words are just terrible? Yuuri knows he has to lose some weight but is it that obvious? But he's smiling and so angelic-looking that Yuuri can't really bring himself to feel offended?

Mari starts complaining about luggage in the hallway, and the heavy reality that Viktor Nikiforov is staying at his family's inn - at his home - hits him right in the head. His brain feels like it's slow steaming as he absently listens to his mother decide on the old banquet room as his coach's ( _is he really??_ ) new room. The banquet room that is right down the hall from his room.

Niceties aside, he's moving all the boxes up to the room with his idol supervising. Yuuri is still so bewildered that he moves everything without noticing his arms aching, and the slight sweat he's worked up. The final box is stacked next to the rest, and he makes a quick apology for the last minute and small accommodations.

"Hmm? Are you nervous?"

Yuuri knows that he probably has that placid, wide-eyed smile on his face. Yes, he's fucking nervous - what's a mortal man supposed to do when a god comes into his house, eats dinner, and sleeps over?

Viktor Nikiforov makes some joke about his coaching fee and Yuuri can no longer keep solid form, and just slides onto the mat. Viktor's dog Makkachin is scratching at the tatami and Yuuri knows he should be trying to stop her, but he's still trying to figure out how 'Viktor Nikiforov' and 'coaching Yuuri Katsuki' fit together.

The man's velvet voice jars him out of his thoughts. "Yuuri," he says softly, "Tell me everything about you."

Yuuri blinks and Viktor Nikiforov is kneeling in front of him. He blinks again and his hand is now on his chin. Yuuri tries blinking for a third time and the other hand is now trailing down his arm and gently cupping his own hand. Words are coming out of Viktor Nikiforov's beautiful, beautiful mouth but they might as well be gurgles or Old Latin because Yuuri can't comprehend it.

He's close enough that warm breath is brushing across his face. He's leaning enough that his robes just fluttered open, curtains parting on stage. And he's warm enough that Yuuri's hands can't numb the sensation that Viktor Nikiforov is right in his space. Yuuri's heart is pounding and his face is flushing and he thinks he might die if Viktor Nikiforov gets any closer and -

He backpedals the fuck out of that situation and braces himself against the opposite wall. His idol is still kneeling, but the strange intensity in his expression is gone and he's merely confused as to why Yuuri backed away from him.

Yuuri's head is pulsing with fevered heat. On one hand, he's learned his lesson with Janice - Phichit would dryly say that this was a textbook example of someone physically flirting.

But on the other hand, _why the fuck would Viktor Nikiforov flirt with him?_  He feels embarrassed and silly for even thinking that way. Life's gotten more complicated, and he takes back feeling sorry for being oblivious. Right now, he'd rather be oblivious and living a simple life, rather than having the audacity and paranoia to imagine that Viktor Nikiforov was flirting with him - further confirmation that he will never understand physicality.

It's even stranger when Yuuri's getting ready for bed and Viktor all but demands to sleep with him. Yuuri's pretty sure that he doesn't mean it in the more-than-friendly sense but he's just so _baffled_. Firstly, he's mortified because all evidence of him stanning for Viktor Nikiforov covers his entire bedroom. Secondly, _no_. As much as Viktor Nikiforov enthralls him, Yuuri hasn't had thinking space since five hours ago. He needs it. The precarious future of his career is in question, and he needs to be able to analyze and evaluate for himself and not let the world decide for him.

He tries to put from his mind how incomprehensible Viktor Nikiforov's actions were. His terrible, terrible intuition is an insensitive but delicate instrument that has been calibrated for more subtle interactions. The Russian skater has been doing the social equivalent of lobbing bricks at his instrument, and Yuuri can't tell if those bricks are serious or joking bricks because getting hit by a brick stuns you, no matter its intentions.

_pchit_chu has sent you 26 messages_

**katsudon_y:**  pls it is 1am i deserve to rest

 **katsudon_y:**  i deserve to be put to rest

 **pchit_chu:**  i cannot believe you are just sleeping and that man

 **pchit_chu:**  our god on ice

 **pchit_chu:**  is right there in your home

 **katsudon_y:**  hes different

 **katsudon_y:**  in person i mean

 **katsudon_y:**  o his dog is v cute tho

_katsudon_y sent a picture_

**pchit_chu:**  omg thats so cute pls send more later

 **katsudon_y:**  im happy ofc but im really nervous

 **pchit_chu:**  y should u be

 **pchit_chu:**  hes there for u he came there for u so be happy

 **pchit_chu:**  worry abt other stff later

 **pchit_chu:**  ok nite nite

 **pchit_chu:**  btw ciao ciao is imagining ur reaction and i think he died laughing

Phichit is right; Yuuri will do himself no good worrying about things he can't deal with at the moment. The fluttering feeling in his chest is just giddiness, and he forces himself to go to sleep, despite his cheeks feeling sore from smiling so much. If Viktor Nikiforov's words are to be trusted, Yuuri has time to learn how to navigate his idol's personality. He gets another chance to show how much he appreciates Viktor Nikiforov's existence, and thank him for gifting Yuuri with his love of skating.

* * *

Training with Viktor Nikiforov is harsh but not unexpected. If Yuuri was to rediscover himself and career alone, as he intended earlier, the intensity of his self-training would be only slightly less.

He still feels like he's in a fever dream, and that feeling is exacerbated by not being allowed on ice. On one hand his muscle-to-fat ratio is still low, and he's not regained the ability to do gold-winning jumps or the stamina to keep at grueling practice safely. On the other hand, he never feels grounded until he's by himself and hearing the steady scrape of ice against his blades.

Interacting with Viktor Nikiforov is even more surreal. The man is cheerfully friendly to the point of almost invasive, but he's so blatant about it that Yuuri's slowly learning to treat it like a quirk. Until he does something that crosses a boundary or two.

"So, do you have a crush on Minako?" Yuuri can't help but do a full body recoil and acts to shut that line of thought down. _Right. Now._

"Have you any lovers before?" No, and not for wanting... okay, Yuuri feels like that's a lie. He's felt (once) and can appreciate attractiveness, but he's never known how to try and isn't sure he wants to. And it doesn't feel right to try with someone he didn't like (Janice comes to mind, and he's still sorry that Phichit got her into that mess). The alignment of his and another's feelings just never happened. He can't see how others make their own connection, regardless of mutual attraction or not. If he doesn't feel something for someone, anything he tries just sits wrong - like he's wearing a second, ill-fitting skin on top of his own.

He feels like he should have, for the sake of societal expectations like the check mark on a rubric; but he's also frustrated that he's made to feel like he's behind the curve in the first place when he's comfortable enough going at his own pace.

Viktor Nikiforov takes his "No comment" in stride and starts to talk about his own lovers and the uncomfortable feeling in Yuuri's gut roils and he is quick to stop that topic also. Maybe it's childish, but talk of any personal intimacy feels so ... disrespectful? Talk of sexuality and hooking up was fine, he suffered it throughout college; but anything more serious or personal felt very uncomfortable, as though he was an unwilling voyeur into another's life.

From Viktor Nikiforov's disappointed sigh, Yuuri's going to have to find a way to entertain him better in conversation. He can't help but shut this type of talk down. He'll talk about anything else. Even his ugly tagged photos on Instagram, courtesy of Phichit.

"Wow! I didn't know you have an Instagram! Do you follow me?" As Viktor Nikiforov is lounging on the low table in the common area, his chest exposed yet again in the green robes from the inn, as Yuuri is still trying to eat his dinner and process that his idol is lazing about on Instagram and his famous dog is acting like a large space heater next to Yuuri.

"Y-Yes-" and that sets the man to dig through and try and find his username. 

"Ah! Perhaps you have other skaters as friends?" And fuck, he finds Phichit's prolific posts and sees in his photos that there are enough of a **katsudon_y**  tagged that it makes sense to click-

"Goodness! What are you even doing in this photo?!" This is it, this is the end; his idol found his shitty Instagram and with it, all of the ugly photos of him at parties and outings.

"A boating incident," Yuuri grumbles, all while furiously messaging Phichit that the Thai boy has ruined his life for the last time.

 **pchit_chu:**  ooo vikorov is stalking my ig

 **pchit_chu:**  HES STALKING FOR ALL THE PHOTOS OF U

 **katsudon_y:**  they are all hideous and deplorable and i look like a degenerate

 **katsudon_y:**  thats right im hitting u with those toefl words how do u like that

 **pchit_chu:**  i have no memory of what ur talking abt and will never think of that test aagin

"This won't do, Yuuri!" Yuuri knees the low table in shock. He's hissing and rubbing his knee in pain, but he's ready for his daily dose of confusion.

"What?"

"You don't have a single good selfie online!" There the man goes again, saying mean things with the prettiest smile. "Let's take a selfie together! You may put it on your Instagram, or tweet it if you prefer! I also found you on Twitter, by the way! Wait, did you just delete your account-" 

Combined with Viktor Nikiforov's continuous posts on his accounts, the few photos of the two of them together basically sets the Internet on fire. The rumors are exploding once confirmed with a modicum of truth. "Yuuri Katsuki's video caught Viktor Nikiforov during his inspiration slump, and the Russian decided to pursue his newfound inspiration and coach the late-bloomer skater!"

They can barely stop the reporters from storming the place. Yuuri half-expects some old rinkmates or even his idol's old coach to come with the stampede, to drag him back.

Yuuri is drifting along the ice, finding that after a good day of work Viktor usually left him to his own devices. He asks Yuuko and Nishigori to let him into the rink, despite their concerns that he may be overworking himself.

"I just need some time to think," Yuuri explains, and as his oldest friends, Yuuko and Nishigori both understand.

He's been confronted by Yuri Plisetsky again, the angry 15 year old that caught him crying at the Grand Prix Final. The young Russian actually flew all the way to Japan, looking for Viktor and spitting bile all along the way. The fact that the kid was all up in his face and trash talking without any finesse was surprisingly amusing. Yuuri has never encountered a competitor as prickly as the kid, and thinks that it'd be hilarious to imigine Phichit going through a punk phase. 

It turns out that Yuri Plisetsky is here to hold Viktor Nikiforov to a promise made long ago, and Yuuri feels his nerves return.

But Yuuri knows that whatever it was, Viktor Nikiforov saw it clearly through his skating and came to Hasetsu just for him. While he feels some doubt in his heart from the sheer conviction in Yuri's (his face when Mari dubbed him 'Yurio' was pure gold) words, he knows that he can't focus on what someone else is feeling or doing if he wants to convince his idol to remain as his coach.

* * *

It's his worst nightmare. The Onsen on Ice competition that will dictate whether Viktor Nikiforov remains in Hasetsu or returns to Russia is already bigger than expected, and the pressure is tangible. One week's time to learn and flesh out a short program, as choreographed by Viktor Nikiforov the Russian figure skating genius. And if that's not enough to shatter his infamous glass heart, the assigned themes for the short programs are the finishing blow.

"Yuuri, you'll be skating to Eros, and Yurio will be skating to Agape!"

Yuuri is glad that Yuri can commiserate over the total misalignment of themes to their respective personalities.

The older Russian man starts tearing them to pieces on their complacency in trying to select their own image, and how on Earth would they ever expect to surprise anyone by doing exactly what others expect?

He expects further protest from Yuri, but the teen angrily declares that he'll skate to that 'innocent bullshit' if it meant that Viktor would come home with him. Yuuri is taken aback by the fierceness in the boy's demands, and nearly blinks away any thoughts of his own desires.

Yuuri was hoping that he wouldn't squander this new opportunity given. But as a first, he sees that he's not too late, that it was up to him right here and now to decide whether he had to conviction to keep Viktor Nikiforov.

His palms are sweating - the thought of having to demonstrate the concept of sexual love is terrifying. He can't even begin to imagine the feeling, let alone how to embody it. His love has always been divorced from the sexual aspect. He's never managed to reconcile the two ideas personally, so he's screwed in trying to reconcile them abstractly. But if he doesn't, he'll be stopping this strange journey before it even starts, and he knows that he'll regret it for the rest of his life.

Yuuri is beyond terrified, but he forces himself to convey his feelings. Viktor has been trying to connect with him, albeit strangely. In his weird, overly intrusive way, he's been trying to learn Yuuri. He finds that under the glamour of five times Grand Prix Final Gold Medalist, Viktor is a person that he genuinely likes. And Yuuri needs to let Viktor know that.

"I-I... I want to keep eating katsudon with Viktor," he starts, and almost cringes because why the fuck was that the first thing out of his mouth? But it's fine, friendship entails eating meals together so he didn't entirely ruin everything.

"I'll skate Eros! _I'll give it all the Eros I have!_ "

* * *

**katsudon_y:** so what do u do when u make a promise that u have no idea how to keep

 **pchit_chu:**  like 'i may have ten billion things to do this weekend but sure ill play mario party w u' and u dont

 **pchit_chu:**  or 'i promise that u may have my firstborn' but u cant make kids

 **katsudon_y:**  let mario party go

 **katsudon_y:**  its been months

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  its closer to the second one but why are your analogies.

 **pchit_chu:**  it was a betrayal ill never 4get

 **katsudon_y:**  if u cared so much 

 **katsudon_y:**  shouldnt it be '5get' bc 5 is greater than 4

 **pchit_chu:**  !!!!!!!! genius

 **pchit_chu:** so if i promised my firstborn to a witch and couldnt deliver

 **pchit_chu:**  id run

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  ooooooooo i sense a story

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  i may have made a mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ep2 is kinda slow.


	3. Episode 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onsen on Ice. Yuuri thinks it's more like 'put HIM on ice'. Also, if it wasn't so mortifying, he'd probably moonlight some research into figuring out how can people touch themselves to other people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I read all the comments and I'm really happy???!?!?1 that so many of you can identify with Yuuri. Like, growing up my most outrageous thought was that I was an alien creature piloting a human body because why else would I not understand liking someone??? I didn't like people that's gross.
> 
> But joke's on me because I'm actually dating now.
> 
> Seriously, thank you for all the kind comments and compliments.
> 
> (he touches his ding dong this chapter but nothing special)

It's college all over again, where it feels like everyone but him has their shit together. Yuri's already gruffly affirmed his understanding of the Agape choreography while Yuuri-

"So, what do you think of the piece, Yuuri?" 

Also like college: too many damn reflection papers.

" _It was very Eros!_ " Basically a 8 AM literature discussion. Yuuri is still trying to process the overwhelming feeling of watching Viktor Nikiforov's beautiful movements, from Agape to Eros. Agape, he looked as though he were precariously dancing on a ledge, held in place through his love and trust of God. The beauty of that solitary fulfillment was breathtaking, and all were made to stop and witness.

And Eros...

While Agape was arresting, Eros was beckoning. Yuuri can't say that it was sexual desire he felt, but sinuous twists and the prowling steps of the program - coupled with Viktor's expression - was like a siren call for him to come onto the ice. He still feels goosebumps from his skin, almost like it wanted to leave the rest of himself behind and get closer and closer to the genius skater. The fevered focus he felt seems like something that would be sexual. 

 _Well, if that was sex, I guess I'm pregnant now_.

Yuuri's glad that Viktor lets his asinine answer slide, and starts to discuss the actual jumps in the program. Yuuri is honest in reporting his capabilities, but he almost feels like he should have bolstered himself a bit after Viktor demotes him to learning after Yurio (he's trying to be respectful and calls him Yuri to his face, but the kid is hilarious when he vibrates in anger).

"It's senseless to teach you the choreography if you can't do the individual components right now. How many times have you messed up during a competition?"

Yuuri knows he's defaulted to that placid half-smile that's trying to keep his soul within his aching body.

"You have the skill to win, so why can't you make it happen?"

And it hurts. It's the question he always asks himself, it's the question that's been worn out on his tongue. He's asked himself that so many times, he's almost given up on believing he even has skills. But his worst enemy - himself - is the answer, and he tries to never forget.

"It's ... probably because I lack confidence," and the words feel so painful. Yuuri's all but verbally prostrating himself in front of his idol, and begging in his mind that his weakness due to perceived weakness isn't laughed at. He doesn't think he can take it.

"Right, so my job is to make you feel confident in yourself."

Yuuri feels his breath catch. Not _Right, so you should feel more confident_. It was _My job is to make you feel confident in yourself_. He lets go of the breath he didn't realize he was holding. That sentence, a small declaration of support and guidance, feels like a lighthouse compared to the numerous but weak lanterns that make up other coaches' platitudes.

But Yuuri loses that gratitude within seconds. He feels, not his own words, but a foreign touch on his lips. And looks up to see Viktor Nikiforov's peerless beauty looming over him. Yuuri's breathing turns shallow, and it feels like a panther has cornered him deep within the jungle. The touch lingers on his lips.

"No one in the entire world knows your true Eros, Yuuri. It may be an alluring side of you that you yourself are unaware of."

He can hear the words but his mind is not processing them. He doesn't have the brainpower to. All higher functions have shut down to dedicate resources entirely to survival. Viktor's breath on his face feels like sitting in the onsen but inverted - his head is boiling but his extremities are numb.

"Can you show me what it is soon?" His aquamarine eyes narrow, like he's coyly coaxing an answer out of Yuuri that Yuuri is unwilling - or unable - to give. He's stiff, and his legs are about to give, and -

Angry yelling brings him back from the void. _Show him his Eros_ , Yuuri incredulously repeats in his mind as Viktor Nikiforov jauntily skates away towards Yurio _._  Sometimes, he can't believe half the words that come out of Viktor Nikiforov's mouth. Yuuri wonders if the man knows how insane he sounds. No normal person just goes up to someone and asks them to _P_ _lease sex it up_  and _Sex it up for me soon_. 

He cannot. Yuuri's soul is fading fast but he can muster one more prayer thanking Yurio for his hissy interruption.

Nishigori commiserates with him, in part.

"You could have made something up," the stocky man says, as he's pressing on Yuuri's back. Yuuri notes that his flexibility is still not quite back to standard. "It like being in Classic Lit all over again - say some bull to get the teacher off your back," Nishigori continues.

Yuuri rolls his eyes. "On ice, it's different. Viktor Nikiforov is a genius, so he can do whatever and it still looks like God's gift to mankind."

"And... it's not like there isn't substance to what he improvises," Yuuri muses. "I can see a story in the program." And that's the first step for him, because personal desire is hard enough without moving it to abstract feelings. Relating it to a story or people made it more comprehensible.

"Ooo, tell me the story~!"

"So, I saw... a playboy rolls into town and starts seducing women left and right. As a challenge, he aims to enthrall the most beautiful woman in town, but she isn't falling for it." Yuuri bends back, licking the small gathering of sweat above his lip. "He pursues her still through a game of 'love, I suppose... and the woman finds it harder and harder to play coy as the game becomes more immersive, and ends up giving in to the playboy."

Nishigori is riveted, and presses a little too hard during the next stretch. "Ow!" "Sorry, man."

"But with the chase concluded..." Yuuri finishes stretching before he leaps onto the bench and throws his right hand out, the left suavely on his chest. "The playboy casts the woman aside, and moves onto the next town!"

"OOOOoooooOOO," Nishigori wriggles in his seat, hands on his cheeks and falsetto going strong. "Soooo seductive, take me!"

The two hold their pose for five seconds before breaking down into laughter. "God, that is not you at all!"

"Right?! It's so ridiculous!" The two calm down and sober up after a bit, and Yuuri contemplates the program further. "I don't have that same charm that Viktor Nikiforov can use for this piece."

"I don't know," Nishigori says with doubt, "Your rendition of 'Stay With Me' was pretty damn sensual." He has his arms wrapped around himself and starts wiggling again. "Just try copying Viktor again?"

"I can't... I can't make the program my own if I copy him," Yuuri answers carefully, the thoughts barely finishing before he speaks. "And copying choreography isn't quite copying the interpretation and execution of the program. Especially for a program with a theme so out out of my depth..."

"So what, you hope to surpass him in the future?"

Yuuri's eyes widen. He didn't have the audacity to say that out loud, he doesn't think. But every god out there forbid he even tease at those thoughts, especially with the living legend standing so close. Last time, they were coexisting on the same planet and then Yuuri was merely paying homage to the man's routine... The shit storm that arose was already bad enough.

Probably, even _thinking_ of surpassing the man while they were in the same building will cause a wrecking ball to smash into Ice Castle Hasetsu and kill them all instantly. No, he can't dare to think something like that, especially with the problem he's facing right now.

* * *

**katsudon_y:** so what do u do in ur spare time besides stalk the #vf tag and my tag

 **katsudon_y:**  have they stopped saying mean things on my tag yet

 **pchit_chu:**  i google translate ur sisters tweets

 **pchit_chu:** its like that 'clients from hell' blog but even funnier

 **pchit_chu:**  ay ignore those meanies they have no idea what theyre talking abt

 **pchit_chu:**  u r my nomber 1 dude

 **pchit_chu:**  oh god number* how did they let me into the us idk

 **katsudon_y:**  thanks my dude :,)

 **katsudon_y:**  nomber lmao

 **katsudon_y:**  oh god i always beg my sister eternal forgiveness

 **katsudon_y:**  for running off to america while she looks after sweaty grandpas day in day out

 **pchit_chu:**  sister mari is so strong

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  also i dound a bag of

_pchit_chu sent a picture_

**katsudon_y:**  konpeito

 **katsudon_y:**  wait wth where did u find tha

 **pchit_chu:**  i missed u so i was diggin thru ur pantry area and ur room

 **pchit_chu:**  found it behind ur bed i totally called it that u hid candy everywhere

 **pchit_chu:**  anyways i aready ate all of it b4 i asked u so i am guessing ill be fine

 **katsudon_y:**  it is basically pure sugar so ya u scavenger

 **katsudon_y:**  but give me 5 mins

 **katsudon_y:**  im praying in thanks that i dont have to deal w ur sugar high

 **pchit_chu:** :DDDd do u think ciao ciao will give me a pass on practice if im too annoying to deal w

 **katsudon_y:**  the ice hockey team might flip u if he isnt careful

 **katsudon_y:**  so 4 ur sake i hope celestino bans u from the ice til tmrw

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  hey real talk

 **katsudon_y:**  do u think i can be sexy

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  i thought u said sugar high not actually high

 **pchit_chu:**  i think im misreading ur text

 **katsudon_y:**  i can read between the lines

 **katsudon_y:**  thank 4 ur terrible yet honest answer

 **pchit_chu:**  aw cmon i dont mean it like that

 **pchit_chu:**  ur just not full out sex beast

 **pchit_chu:**  doesnt mean u cant be hot

 **pchit_chu:** its a different hot

He's not mad. He's an adult. He's 23. He can totally be attractive and sexy. Abs are sexy, right?

Yuuri looks up and he is no longer sexy. Viktor Nikiforov's entire body is on exhibit and now the standard for attractiveness is too high. While his eye is twitching and his brain is sparking, he objectively tries to reason out why seeing Viktor Nikiforov's dick is different from seeing any other dick out there. Just because he's 100% stanning for the man doesn't mean he wants... stuff. But then again, Yuuri doesn't really stan for anyone else so not much can be concluded from one data point.

One large data point.

He immediately inhales hot, hot water and scalds his nasal cavity. Yurio lets out a gurgle to his left.

"Hey, can you take a photo of me for my Instagram?"

The man even _pouts_ pretty when Yuuri explains, _N_ _o, they are technically not allowed to take pictures in the hot springs_.

"Okay, after hours," Yuuri compromises. Nobody will have their privacy violated (except him, most likely, but that just came with Viktor Nikiforov being his super friendly and invasive coach), and Viktor can have his fill of hot spring appreciation. It's hard to remember at times, since he grew up at Yu-topia Katsuki, that the onsen are something to marvel at. He's glad that Viktor is such a good tourist (for the most part) - the man is always excited and genuinely loves everything that he learns about.

"Yuuri, here is another photo! I will refrain from posting it so that you can have it for your Instagram!" And he can be thoughtful about the smallest things- "This one captures your good side, so you'll have _two_  nice selfies!"

Never mind.

Yuuri's brain is churning hard, which is why he's drooling on the dining table. Yurio is physically dead, on his right.

He's going to break it down, nice and easy. _Sexual desire: is a motivational state and an interest in “sexual objects or activities, or as a wish, need, or drive to seek out sexual objects or to engage in sexual activities”_. Nope. He has his phone underneath the table where his drooling face can read it with minimal neck movement. He quickly tweets: "tf when a word is defined using itself smh" and Phichit immediately retweets it.

Okay, then he'll take out the word 'sexual'. Desire is much easier to work with. An all-encompassing desire is what people seem to make it out to be, and the phrase 'thinking with your other head' comes to mind. Losing the ability to make rational decisions...

Viktor Nikiforov's robes beautifully frame the bowls of katsudon in front of him. His nipples are like glistening stars. Yuuri is trying to telepathically close the man's robes.

_I'm starving._

_I'm sick of broccoli._

_They're just dumb little trees._

_I can eat ten million katsudon, though._

When his friends got together to study for finals, they would go to a shitty diner and order any food that sounded even remotely appetizing. They never finished any of it and there was always lasting guilt on their minds and bank accounts, but they never stopped making the same mistake. The only truths were: they were hungry, they had exams, they had no sleep and no impulse control.

"I got it! It's katsudon!! That's my Eros!"

His brain, trying its very hardest to catch up to his mouth, is now hard-wiring a reflex titled 'Just Slap Yourself Yuuri Katsuki Oh My God'.

His mouth attempts to do damage control, but Viktor and Yurio have already accepted it.

"Okay, let's go with that," Viktor Nikiforov's face has never looked so uncanny. Maybe it's his current smile or is that a grimace? "It's unique and simple."

_I'm simple. I'm a single-celled organism I'm so fucking simple._

Yurio is mustering up his last remnant of strength to chuckle ghoulishly at him.

Yuuri is halfway across the city with Makkachin whining and panting up at him before he realizes that he just screamed his way through an evening sprint. A twitter rant won't save him now, Phichit won't save him now. He resolves to figure out this 'sexuality' business tonight.

He's in bed, and he's forcing himself to think about it. It's been a few weeks since he's touched himself and he does so regularly - he just never thinks of anyone or anything. It started out with the boys at school talking about it during gym, and he went home and tried, and it was like _okay_ _whoa, that was unexpected_. He's not ashamed of it and it definitely helps him unwind.

It feels foreign to try and think of something, but he's grasping at straws and this is the most obvious example of sexuality. So he'll think of a person. Easy enough (not easy).

So Yuuri starts off, not thinking. Just languidly wraps his hand around his length and pumps until he's ready enough to start thinking. He's on top of his covers and his free hand is over his eyes.

His traitor mind pulls up the first person that he's had a prolonged, visceral reaction towards. It's fucking Viktor Nikiforov. Yuuri chokes and stills. He doesn't want to, but he's out of ideas. If he doesn't do it, Viktor will leave.

He braces himself, and starts moving his hand again. His fingers are hesitant as his mind focuses.

 _Think of wanting him. Wanting him close._  He imagines walking closer to him. The man is smiling sharp, with a hint of teeth, sly and cocky. Instead of standing like a mannequin today, he imagines grabbing onto Viktor Nikiforov's arm to pull him closer. He forces his imaginary self to stare down half-lidded eyes, a ring of blue surrounding pupils that were big enough to swallow him whole.

Yuuri imagines bridging that infinitesimal distance between their faces, hot breath fanning across his cheeks, and before their imaginary lips touch he lets out a strangled yelp. He has to stop. Yuuri releases his grip as he would around a venomous snake. He claps both hands to his head and just entirely cringes in bed.

"It's too embarrassing," he admits out loud into the dark. "I'm going to die, I cannot believe I just did that–" He turns until he's sleeping face down, hoping that the heat from his cheeks will be insulated by his pillow and just cook him alive. If the posters were still up, he would never be able to look the actual man in the eye again.

_I need a temple._

* * *

The sad thing is that Viktor Nikiforov is a supportive and good enough coach to play along with Yuuri.

"Try imagining the entanglement of the egg more!"

"Yes, sir!" Viktor is trying and Yuuri is dying.  _Fucking katsudon._

Phichit hears about the whole Onsen on Ice debacle online (it was a mistake to tell him about the Nishigori Triplets' twitter handle, because it was the equivalent of him having updates from government surveillance on Yuuri's sordid, miserable life). Yuuri firmly tells him that he's going to mute him for a week and whatever comes of the competition, he's either inviting Phichit to a celebration or his funeral. Phichit understands, and behaves himself.

 **pchit_chu:**  i believe in u

 **pchit_chu:**  hey if u fail u can come hide in bangkok until ur embarrassment blows over :O

 **pchit_chu:**  hey u should fail so u can come visit me

 **katsudon_y:**  not 'oooo yuuri u cant possibly fail'

 **katsudon_y:**  or 'ur the best!!!!'

 **katsudon_y:**  ... no? ok u big egg

Nishigori is running is drills with him while Yuuko takes care of Yurio (who, for some reason, _chills the fuck out_  when talking to Yuuko).

"Did you 'find your Eros' yet?" the man teases at the beginning of each day.

"No."

"Did you even try?"

"If it were as easy as going to the store and buying a different personality, I would have gifted you a new one back in high school."

Yuuri has no idea how they ended up meditating under a waterfall by the end of the week. He didn't even know there was a waterfall nearby. Little Yuri is bristling in his gi (where did Viktor get all of these _things_ ), and Yuuri feels like his brain is still doing catch up from day 1. But apparently the waterfall works and Yuri is entirely transformed. Watching the teen flit across the ice, precarious and vulnerable, leaves him in awe and anxiety. He knows he still hasn't found the vital component to drive his program, and he's running out of time.

* * *

Minako brings up a good point at dinner. Both of them don't have costumes.

Viktor perks up from the ground, where Makkachin was rolling around. The man hums happily as he's thumbing though filters for his newest photo of his dog, and tells them to meet him in his room after dinner. 

In his room, he not only packed his entire apartment from Russia to Japan, but his entire skating wardrobe as well.

"Is... this?"

"My Junior World Champion costume? It was back when I had long hair, so we tried to go for a more androgynous aesthetic in the costume-" And something clicks in his head.

Yuuri sees it. Eros, he'll break down the desire component of sexual desire. The concept of desire has two parts: the one who desires, and the desired. He knows he can't see himself desiring, but acting like he's desired is easier. The action of desiring isn't up to him, and he can divorce that from the strange embarrassment and discomfort he gets when he thinks about. uh. 

Moving on, he thinks about the story that he told Nishigori. Immediately, his mind switches his spot from the playboy to the beautiful woman. Except... he doesn't want to be dumped after the competition - and he realizes that he might be going too far with the program and its analogy to his situation. But it's not wrong, per se... he _is_  dancing to keep Viktor Nikiforov. So he'll change the dance. The beautiful woman, through the power of her allure, beats the playboy at his game and keeps him in the end.

The playboy: Viktor Nikiforov, who could have his pick of anyone in the world but chose him. Who Yuuri has no idea what he wants (and coaching him just seems too naive of an answer), and doesn't know if he'll leave once he gets what he wants.  _He can't let that happen._

By the time he's finished with his thoughts, it's late and he's still clutching that black and crystal costume. He shoves it into his bag for tomorrow and immediately sprints for Minako's apartment.

If he's going to play the part of the beautiful woman, he needs to learn how to move like a beautiful woman.

* * *

Nothing has changed. He still feels likes he has one foot in the grave during a competition. Yurio is vibrating in the corner, listening to some of that oddly-savory Russian death metal (if he were younger and angrier, their music tastes would probably coincide). 

He feels himself becoming a spectator to his own event. Of course, Yurio looks beautiful. Technically impeccable, and he captures the vision of Viktor's demonstration of the program. Yuri Plisetsky is the graceful and innocent worshiper, held from falling into the ravine leading to Hell by his devotion and the grace of God. And by the grace of God he lands every one of his jumps, all triples and quads. _He'll really rank within the senior division_.

But soon comes the time that he can no longer distract himself from his nerves by watching Yurio. He tries to outline some simple facts to keep himself calm.

_I skate in about one minute._

_My program has a triple axel, a quad Salchow, and a quad triple toe loop combination._

_I've never landed a quad Salchow cleanly in competition._

_If I lose, Viktor Nikiforov leaves Hasetsu._

_If I lose, I lose Viktor._

_If I lose_ -

He feels like he just ran into the barrier of the rink, but someone's holding onto him. Yuuri's vision clears and it's Viktor. He mentally whines because he can't deal with anything if Viktor comes too close - he can barely think and breathe at the same time right now -

But Viktor doesn't come any closer. Nor is he moving away. He's there, he's steady, and he's the last thing keeping Yuuri from hitting the ground. Yuuri chokes back a sob. _Not here, not now_ , he chants.

Viktor waits. His face is devoid of that cheerfully sharp smile, or that easy grin. It's a soft look. "Yuuri, it's your turn."

The words out of his mouth make no sense and Yuuri will be the first to denounce himself, but Viktor takes every outrageous syllable seriously.

And some fucking demon possesses him because his arms are around his idol, he's breathing in the crisp scent of his cologne, and he's trying to wring a promise from Viktor Nikiforov.

_And he feels warm hands placed onto his back, searing through the mesh of the costume._

The sound in the rink dulls down. He can't hear the noise anymore. He's waiting for the playboy to walk in, and he'll become the most beautiful woman in town.

The violin starts and he begins.

_Viktor walks into the empty rink, except it's not empty. Yuuri is there, and he is skating._

He knows he's wanted. He'll make sure that all eyes are on him. He's not prowling to his desire, like Viktor; he's tempting someone towards desire.

_Even through the camera, through the phone screen, Yuuri's dance is potent with allure._

The step sequence feels much longer than it really is, and the combination spins are gearing him up for the jumps.

He's ready.

_Yuuri didn't do anything special besides show himself, and that was enough to make Viktor Nikiforov come straight to Japan._

He steps out of the quad Salchow but recovers.

_Yuuri brought him here, and Yuuri's going to keep him here._

He's better than any other woman out there.And he'll show everyone why.

He nails the combination quad triple toe loop.

_Yuuri will skate again, and Viktor Nikiforov will look nowhere else._

His sweat is a cold layer on his overheating body, and Yuuri realizes that his ears are ringing from the cheers. He dazedly waves before drifting (there's not enough physical intent in the motion to call it skating) over to Viktor, whose madly throwing his arms out over and over as though it will get Yuuri into proximity quicker.

The contrast from Viktor's warm arms and his cooling, sweating body jolts him back and he's in Viktor's embrace.

"You were the tastiest katsudon that I've ever seen!"

Alright, he'll take it. But wait, Yuuri's the one who said that in the first place. God damn his autopilot mouth.

And of course the niceties never last. "What's with your triple axel out of the spread eagle? That was sloppy! And your free leg is just flapping around out there like always! And I know you were practicing the quad Salchow with Yurio in secret but all you had to show was that?! And-"

Yuuri melts out of his idol's arms and onto the ice. He's surprisingly glad, though - Viktor's not saying these things with that mean smile of his. His face is serious in its criticism, and it's the first time that Viktor's face matches his words.

* * *

The Onsen on Ice Competition concludes with him as the victor, and the Ice Castle Hasetsu workers are dealing with clean up. Yuuri knows that he gave some public words about something, but he's too tired to deal with it right now. He's expended the last of his energy worrying about Yurio, but it turns out that the angriest little Russian had a ticket back to Russia booked already - he's just left for the airport earlier than he had to. After asking through Yuuko about his wellbeing and location, Yuuri takes a quick soak in the onsen before laying himself to rest on the dining table. 

A steaming bowl of katsudon is the only thing blocking Viktor Nikiforov's beaming face from his view. If Yuuri takes off his glasses, it'll look like the katsudon has a silver hairpiece.

"You did very good today, Yuuri!" says the katsudon. "Eat up, rest up - for it's back to work after this!"

"Thank you, Mr. Katsudon," Yuuri mumbles. He mechanically eats it all - he's so tired but his belly is so happy.

Viktor, surprisingly, doesn't go all out with the celebrations. He indulgently watches Yuuri eat, hands him a napkin and cup of tea after, and ushers him upstairs and towards bed. Yuuri isn't protesting.

But they've reached the branching point between Viktor's room and Yuuri's room.

"I'm saying this again, Yuuri, but well done," Viktor says warmly. Yuuri doesn't know when the hand that was pushing against his arm turned into a warm hold on his own hand.

"Thank you for believing in me," he says. It's all he can say at the moment. Maybe tomorrow, when he can process life again, he'll have more profound things to say, but tonight is no-go.

The hand holding his is furnace hot. Heat trails on his skin where the fingers stroke. "You really did discover Eros for yourself," Viktor muses. His eyes are narrowed and his lips are in a beautiful smirk. "I'm sure it's been difficult, and I'm a firm believer in rewarding hard work."

Yuuri's head is not able to deal with this tonight. He's frozen in place, the exhaustion the only thing preventing him from seizing up.

Viktor's other hand trails down his cheek. "Well, as I am now your coach proper, we'll have plenty of time to explore a suitable reward system, Yuuri." His words are pure heat against his ears but all Yuuri feels is shivers down his spine. He really hopes he didn't catch a cold, but it would explain how feverish he feels right now.

The hand picks up from his cheek and teasingly pinches his nose. "But for now, you need to go to sleep," Viktor steps back from Yuuri, his words like a magnanimous king's. "Off to bed, my little piglet."

Viktor's sliding door shuts before Yuuri can move again. He is now awake.

_pchit_chu has sent you 137 messages_

**katsudon_y:**  i need ur opnion

 **katsudon_y:**  hey

 **pchit_chu:**  i sleep sleep u stop beep beep

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  nope no u do not get to do this to me

 **katsudon_y:**  dont make me call in 'the favor'

 **pchit_chu:**  i am awake the sun is up

 **pchit_chu:**  how may i be of service

 **katsudon_y:**  idk what viktor nikiforov is doing

 **katsudon_y:**  do u think hes the type to play ppl

 **katsudon_y:**  or just quirky

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  obsv none of us kno this guy well despite how much we look up 2 him

 **pchit_chu:**  judging by how he portrays himself online he seems to go by his own pace

 **pchit_chu:**  people all act differently so what seems one way for someone is not the case for another

 **pchit_chu:**  doubly so for viktor

 **katsudon_y:**  but hes so...??????????

 **katsudon_y:**  its not like being friendly or close is a crime but we already know tat i have no idea what another person is doing to me ever

 **pchit_chu:**  maybe he just really likes u and wants to be ur friend

 **katsudon_y:**  i dont really see y bc its so much effort for my... friendship? cooperation?

 **pchit_chu:**  u need to give urself more credit bc tons of ppl want to be ur friend and they are right 2 want that

 **katsudon_y:**  those ppl need to reevaluate their lives

 **pchit_chu:**  he just seems blatant and not pushy so feel free to meet him wherever u feel comfortable

 **pchit_chu:**  HEY no talking like that

 **katsudon_y:**   ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 **pchit_chu:**  ok he is ur coach but hes probably also trying to be ur friend

 **pchit_chu:**  he hopped a continent 4 u

 **pchit_chu:** it wouldnt make sense 4 him to JUST coach u n keep u distant

 **pchit_chu:**  o shit he might have a crush on u

 **katsudon_y:**  お休み forever

 **pchit_chu:**  hey dont go to sleep this convo just started getting spicy

 **pchit_chu:**  cmon dude u cannot just tease me from my nap like this

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My friends are little shits, which is why I know exactly how little shits behave.
> 
> This will be my last chapter for the week; there's only so much I can procrastinate on studying and research.


	4. Episode 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's two steps forward and one step back. No, he lied - it's two steps up the stairs and tripping and hitting his face on the way down.
> 
> Also, Yuuri hopes that the audacity of deleting and remaking his Twitter account under the same name will prevent Viktor from finding him again. There's only so many times he can rant to Phichit about too much naked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit that episode 7 fucked me the fuck up. But I think I've ranted about it enough on tumblr so I will not here (I pulled out the evidence like an attorney when my bf was unconvinced that they kissed). PHICHIT WON GOLD YES. 
> 
> I also didn't expect to love Georgi so much jfc. The man just screams on the ice and honestly, me too.

He gets one break between Onsen on Ice and the start of summer. It is a slyly negotiated deal, taking advantage of Viktor's curiosity and enthusiasm of all things foreign and novel.

"My parents gave me this big stack of sakuramochi, and I won't stop until it's all in my mouth," Yuuri declares with false bravery. His bravery isn't false, now that he thinks about it. He knows that Viktor's going to verbally eviscerate him, but death before dishonor: it's for sakuramochi.

Viktor's about to make some 'piglet' comment when Yuuri willfully shoves a pink sweet into the man's stupidly pretty mouth. The man's eyes light up and his screams of "Vkusno!" reverberate throughout the inn.

"I haven't had these in five years, and we eat them during Hana-mi," Yuuri explains. "And since we had that cold front earlier this month, the cherry blossoms are blooming a little later this year."

"Ish dat wat dish ish for?" Viktor hardly looks like his ethereal self when he's shoving mochi after mochi into his face. Yuuri quickly moves the stack of sweets closer to himself.

"Yep, so you're in luck," Yuuri says, glad that he doesn't have to fight his coach (his coach! _his_  coach!) on eating the sweets. 

They lounge at the park all day, taking the time to rest their bodies and let Makkachin run loose. The pile of sakuramochi disappears quickly between the two; Yuuri doesn't realize that he's absently fought for a piece with his idol until minutes after the bout. Viktor's lying prone, hands darting around to grab food and occasionally poke and prod Yuuri. Yuuri's laying on his back, one hand cushioning his head and the other taking his fair share of mochi and swatting away Viktor's wandering fingers.

Viktor talks and talks about different ideas for the free program and Yuuri thinks and thinks of the same thing. By early evening, Viktor's chin is resting on Yuuri's lower thigh, but it takes Makkachin bodily jumping onto his owner's back for Yuuri to feel the weight of the man on him.

He immediately sits up, looking at Viktor with alarm. The man is laughing, mock-wrestling with Makkachin. His hair lays, in iridescent strands of soft platinum, across the dark fabric of Yuri's thigh.  _Angelic_ , Yuuri thinks is the proper descriptor. 

He's so lost in the peaceful lull of looking at the other man that it takes his brain a minute to refresh and and receive the urgent message from his eyes that  _Hello! Viktor Nikiforov is staring at you staring at him! Have a nice day!_ He thanks his eyes for being polite as always - he's aware of his face twisting in realized embarrassment, and the transition to blushing is not gentle.

Amisdt his stammering, Viktor rolls back onto his stomach and props himself up with crossed arms on Yuri's leg. His leg may be the luckiest leg in the world, but he's lost all feeling in it - just as well that it's not his leg anymore.

"Did my katsudon fall for me, I wonder?" Viktor muses, his voice low and husky. Another issue: Viktor's new position puts him higher up Yuri's thigh. The unholy trinity of voice, gaze, and position has him immediately racking his brain for the location of the local temple. He deals with the sudden queasy feeling by lying back down, tucking his arms in, and rolling the fuck away from that mess.

Apparently, the video of him screaming "Noooooo!" while rolling away on the grass gets over 100k likes and even more comments on Viktor's Instagram. The aesthetics of the falling cherry blossoms adds a very surreal feel to it. Viktor doesn't tag his account, but merely places the #yuurikatsuki hashtag on the video. Yuuri refuses to watch more than once and acknowledge his shame, but he's thankful that Viktor has some semblance of respect for his desire of online anonymity.

"You know, your Eros confidence was captivating to watch. Perhaps we should escalate that," Viktor muses at Ice Castle Hasetsu one evening. That tone of voice is one Yuuri has learned to dread.

"I know! The next step is for you to skate naked!"

The new video of him screaming, skating into and falling over the barrier on the far side of the rink gains double the amount of likes and comments than the previous one. '#yuurikatsuki running from his problems again' the caption reads. He's been memed on Twitter, fucking damn it. If Viktor wasn't... fucking Viktor Nikiforov: God on Ice, he would have fought the man.

 **pchit_chu:**  vf is so good to you

 **pchit_chu:**  shaming u left and right

 **pchit_chu:**  im glad someone is taking care f u w/o me there :')

 **katsudon_y:**  its like u never left

 **katsudon_y:**  free me from the ninth circle of hell

 **pchit_chu:**  aw u kno u miss me :3c my nomber 1 dude

 **katsudon_y:**  突然英語が読まれない、マイ・ヂュ―ド

There's only so much he can take. Yuuri knows how to get pretty revenge, though; it comes with the territory of growing up with a sibling.

Viktor still hasn't caught on that while his normal vision is bad, he's not fucking blind.  _People with perfect vision, for fuck's sake._  Viktor's pout when Yuuri pretends to mistake any object on the side of the rink for his coach is priceless. Normal people would laugh at Yuuri instead, but Viktor's the type of man who low-key can't comprehend someone accidentally or purposefully ignoring him.

And the other night: Viktor was waiting in his room after dinner and a bath. The man intercepts him like a homed missile, in his loose jinbei and pillow under arm.

"Yuuri~! Let's sleep together tonight! Please?" How whining doesn't detract from the 27 year old man's attractiveness, Yuuri can't figure it out.

Makkachin gives a polite little bark from next to Viktor, and Yuuri acts out his next petty revenge.

He pauses under his doorframe, body blocking the entrance. Turns back, face blank before morphing into a small, warm smile. It's going to take quick reflexes, he knows. He's ready - years of reflexively sprinting from his problems have prepared him for this delicious moment.

"I guess it's about time I let you sleep with me-”

”R-really?!"

"-Makkachin."

At her name, the vivacious poodle bounds down the corridor and into Yuuri's room before Viktor can comprehend that he's been played. Yuuri closes the door and locks it to the sound of a childish "Weeeeeeehh!"

"Good night, Viktor; I hope you sleep well!"

Like this, or when his hair is sleep-tousled or he's lazily sprawled on the tatami mats with Makkachin draped across his torso, Yuuri can begin to believe his idol is mortal.

But on ice, Viktor Nikiforov still holds a godlike presence.

Which is why Yuuri slides right into the most formal and apologetic dogeza in the history of Japan when he realized that he was an hour late to practice.

He skipped breakfast that morning in favor of lazing next to Makkachin, and by the time he removes himself from the fluffy dog's warmth and converts his phone time from Detroit to Japan, it dawns on him that it's 10AM. He screams and dresses in his training clothes, he screams and sprints like demons are after him all the way to Ice Castle Hasetsu, and he doesn't stop screaming until he skids across the fresh ice and begs for forgiveness.

"Oh, wow! A Japanese dogeza - how fun!" He claps and laughs at Yuuri's prostration. "You know, only Aeroflot has kept me waiting as long as you have," his smile is beautiful but Yuuri knows that's his _mean_ smile, "so we'll have to make up for lost time."

That day's practice is brutal. Yuuri nails the ice more times than his jumps, and by the time he's in the hot springs for the night, he has many moments of weakness where he begs whatever god up there to superheat the onsen so that he can be boiled alive and leave his soft, shitty body behind.

Viktor's voice carries across the onsen. "You tend to flub your jumps when something's on your mind... And I don't think I've ever heard your brain stop churning," Viktor jokes, "so perhaps it's best to lower the number of quads in your free program."

He can't help his quick protest. "But-!" Seeing his coach's dick while the man is happily stretching next to the onsen magnetically repels Yuuri to flip around. He lets out 'Strangled Yell Type D' and that's testimony to how many times this happens - he has enough reference points in his yelling to categorically label each one.

Seeing unnecessary dick doesn't stop him from arguing his er... argument.

"I-If I want to win the Grand Prix Final, I'll need every one of those quads!"

"Why? Even if there's only one quad, you can just get a perfect score on the program components!"

Right, just get a perfect score on the _subjective_ portion of the performance. Hah. Of course Viktor Nikiforov would say that.

And yes, there is merit to what the crazy genius said, but Yuuri doesn't want to accept that. He knows his strong suit is in the program components, with how he makes up for his lousy technical score deductions from flubbed jumps with his execution and performance. But making up isn't getting better. He wants to be better than that. And making up isn't going to cut it at the Grand Prix Final.

"Yuuri, you may scoff at that, but I don't think that's a tall order for you," Viktor says. "After all, that's the reason why I decided to be your coach!"

What? Yuuri's always pondered that random and impulsive decision of Viktor Nikiforov. While he's learned that the man is random and impulsive, a decision of this magnitude must have been instigated by a strong reason. But he's never asked the question, partly afraid that breaking the silence will break his tenuous hold on the Russian skater.

"Watching your video... I didn't realize at first, that you were skating without music. The song in the video was added during editing, yes?" Yuuri nods. He never gained the courage to watch the video, but that night at the rink was silent except for his motions through the ice. He supposes that it's nice of the triplets to add music.

"I rewatched the video muted. I was drawn to you - your body didn't need the music for any of the emotional impact. Your skating created all the music that was needed." 

Yuuri doesn't realize (he doesn't realize things a lot around Viktor, honestly - the man continuously fries his brain with copious amounts of skinship and crazy words) that he's meeting Viktor's intense gaze until the man grabs him by the shoulder.

He's not proud of the "Bweh?" (Bewildered Noise Type F) that escapes his throat and his poor, sore back strains at holding himself stiff away from his idol's too close face. Pale hands trail down his biceps and forearms before grabbing at his hands. Yuuri's given up on ever pulling away from his octopus-like coach, and just brings his hands up to make the hand-holding easier on both of them.

He still flinches when Viktor smiles, his eyes never losing their intensity for a second as he looks right through Yuuri. "I knew - I want to create a high-difficulty program to maximize that facet of your skating," he says with an intimate volume. "I'm the only who _can_  do that, was my intuition."

Yuuri gasps but isn't surprised when Viktor bodily yanks him out of the onsen.

"And the short program validated my suspicions!"

He honestly doesn't know how his life has come to this. They're calmly (or he's trying to calm the fuck down) discussing the free program while Viktor helps him stretch akin to forcibly posing a mannequin. Oh, and a lot of caressing _oh god_. But still, this is an important conversation to have, which is why Yuuri doesn't flee for his room. They pause their discussion once they realize that they've gathered an audience.

_Is Old Man Yamada praying for my soul? Because I really need it._

His phone is blowing up when he checks it in the changing area.

_pchit_chu has sent you 18 messages_

**pchit_chu:**  dude congradual

 **pchit_chu:**  congratulate* me i gradumacated

_pchit_chu sent a picture_

**katsudon_y:**  aaaawwww yeah congrations!!!!!!!!!

 **katsudon_y:**  u done it

 **katsudon_y:**  sad i couldnt b there

 **pchit_chu:** thank

 **pchit_chu:**  omg can u mail me wagashi

 **katsudon_y:**  ew itll get gross in the mail do u want to die

 **pchit_chu:**  fine then i just want more konpeito

 **pchit_chu:**  im moving back home soon so itll be easier to mail it :OOOOO

 **katsudon_y:**  but the question is

 **katsudon_y:**  do u deserve konpeito

_pchit_chu is typing..._

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  ill get rid of that one photo

 **pchit_chu:**  the boating one

 **katsudon_y:**  pleasure doing business w u

"Oh! That reminds me! You have Celestino's number, yes?" 

Yuuri looks up from his messages and nods hesitantly.

"Good!" And Viktor swipes his phone before he can ask why. The phone is ringing on speaker before Yuuri can switch into protesting. It picks up mid-second ring.

"Yuuri? Ciao ciao! I haven't heard from you since right after the Grand Prix Final! How have you been? I hear Viktor Nikiforov is your coach now?"

God damn Viktor Nikiforov, thrusting him into one uncomfortable situation after another. But the guilt in deep within him for cutting away from Coach Celestino so abruptly forces him to speak.

"Ah... Yes - hi... um, I'm really sorry-"

"What are you apologizing for?" For all that Celestino couldn't help him out of his slump, the man was good-natured and always treated him well.

"Ciao ciao! It's Viktor, his coach!" the Russian skater cuts in.

The voice on the other end quiets slightly in contemplation. "Hmm. So you are there. Having fun, playing coach?"

Whatever his former coach is insinuating, his new coach just blatantly sidesteps.

"Quick question: why didn't you let Yuuri choose his program music?"

Yuuri tunes out the following conversation. He's heard it before - blah blah blah leads to "Yuuri never has confidence" blah blah "Yuuri needs confidence". He knows it, but just saying that he needs something doesn't mean he'll miraculously get it.

He catches Viktor before he hangs up. The last of his guilt demands reparation.

"Um! Celestino... I-I'm going to redeem myself - at the next Grand Prix Final!"

The gravelly voice on the other end chuckles. "That's what I wanted to hear you say at the last Grand Prix Final. Better late than never, though. Best of luck, Yuuri."

He's a new person. Guilt is no longer weighing him down. Life is beautiful again. "I'm so relieved that he's not mad - I couldn't bring myself to contact him for so long..." But his feelings of airy peace are disrupted moments later by the looming form of Viktor Nikiforov, unhappy and still mostly naked. Unhappy was the most important issue here, so Yuuri's going to focus on that.

"Yuuuuriiiiiii," the length to which Viktor draws out his name is inversely proportional to how mad he is. He's not too mad, just annoyed. "What's this about some music that you had someone compose? Why didn't you tell me about this? If we're going to have you produce your own free program, little things like this are actually important! I'm your coach, so you should be telling me these things, right?"

Yuuri just takes the long reprimand and apologizes resignedly.

He's going to have to show... it.

* * *

The reasons why he never mentioned the demo: one, he forgot about it (he made himself forget it and he's going to be honest with himself here); two, presenting the opportunity for his lifelong idol Viktor Nikiforov to judge something that was supposed to be the epitome of his skating career was beyond daunting.

Because that's what the demo was supposed to be - a composition that represented his skating career. 

The corollary to Reason Two is: he knows that his skating career is rather... tepid. The only hot thing about it is Viktor deciding to be his coach. He already knew the reaction of his coach, but it didn't hurt any less. He didn't need official confirmation that his career was underwhelming.

He holes up in his room right after a brief but thorough shower and quick dinner. He's been forcing himself, for the past week, to come up with a theme for his free skate. The legal pad is scratched out and annotated edge to edge, and the only thing keeping him at the fruitless effort is the thought of disappointing Viktor.

Viktor Nikiforov, the genius who could choreograph his own programs and bend music to tell his stories - the pressure to produce something, anything, is crushing under the weight of such a man as a coach.

"what if hitting ur head w paper hard enough causes ideas to follow the law of diffusion and just?? write themselves???" he quickly tweets. Impulsively, he checks Instagram and scrolls through the feeds to empty his mind a bit. He perks up to see that Phichit is back in Bangkok. Since they are close enough in timezones, Yuuri doesn't feel bad calling his friend on video chat.

Phichit picks up immediately.

"Phichit! สวัสดีครับ!"

The boy on the other end laughs. "Yuuri!! It's been too long since I've seen your face! Texting's not the same..."

And it really isn't. They've only known each other for three years, but it feels much longer than that. "So you moved out okay?"

"Yeah, I came back during Spring Break to bring some things home, so officially packing up wasn't too hard."

"Hope last semester was okay for you..."

"Eh, it was super boring without you there." Yuuri can't help the grin on his face. "You should come visit me here! Oh! Well, after Grand Prix and stuff..."

He laughs, his mind feeling a lot clearer and heart a lot lighter. He's really missed the Thai boy and their adventures.

"So, I did need to ask you something."

"I know, you're not the type to call for small talk. What'cha need?"

"Remember I had that demo made-"

"-by that conservatory student, yeah. And you didn't even use it, too - talk about brutal!"

Yuuri shrugs with a grimace. "I mean, I feel pretty bad about it; she let me keep the demo and all..."

Phichit finger-guns him through the video. "I know exactly what you're thinking. I'll ask around for her new contact info."

"Do you think she'll be salty about it?"

"You really have nothing to lose, yeah? Pretty sure she's not. I'll let you know."

"Alright, thanks a lot, _dude_ ," Yuuri teases.

"See ya, my number one dude!" The video of Phichit grinning fiercely with a Thai skating rink as the backdrop ends.

Asking (more like Phichit reading his mind) for the conservatory student's contact info was a whim. He doesn't know what he will ask of her, or if he even will ask anything of her. 

Phichit texts back within two days.

 **pchit_chu:**  hey i found her email

 **pchit_chu:**  emailed it to u myself

 **katsudon_y:**  y is there an adresss for soemwhere in thailand included

 **katsudon_y:**  y is ur address here

 **pchit_chu:**  4 u 2 send my congratulatory konpeito obvs

 **katsudon_y:**  that bag of candy is the singular defining mistake of my life

 **katsudon_y:**  celestino prob has no way to reign u in now that ur home

 **pchit_chu:**  lol he takes a 5 min moment of silence b4 every practice 

_katsudon_y sent a picture_

**katsudon_y:**  ur daily dog photo

 **katsudon_y:**  shes so good lol she sleeps w me 70% of the time now

 **pchit_chu:**  ik i saw the floor napping photo on vfiktors ig

 **katsudon_y:**  what.

While he has the girl's email, he still has no idea what to ask her. He's trying to come up with a theme, and hold Viktor off. The man is incredulous when Yuuri replies negative to his asking about his free program music.

"What? You still haven't chosen music?" Viktor's leaning against the barrier on the spectator side. "Why can't you trust your own decisions?"

Yuuri knows it would be disrespectful to shrug, but really though. He shrugs.

"-I mean, it should be like instinct; the free skate is about _you_. Maybe a strong feeling or memory can inspire you, like... being with your lover-"

Yuuri and Mari have lived separate lives, each silently supporting each other. While Yuuri's looked up to his older sister, he's never really emulated her except for one thing.

"Haaaagh?!" The biker gang grunt that she used to do when she _was_ part of a biker gang was honestly the funniest thing to Yuuri, who mimicked it unceasingly for laughs. He regrets it now, the irony of mocking becoming habit.

He fucking grunted like some yankee punk at his idol. He fucking needs to go.

"Oh my god, I am so very sorry-"

Viktor chuckles but bulldozes over his apology, "Right, I forgot that you've never had anyone before."

It's nothing he hasn't heard before. It's nothing new at all. He's been teased all throughout college for never hooking up, never dating, being the perfectly virginal 'cinnamon roll' of the group.

But maybe it's his embarrassment, or maybe it's been one too many times. He feels his heart sink. His entire being feels inadequate. And he's suddenly mad at being made to feel inadequate. Whether or not he's dated before or messed around shouldn't mean anything. He's happy enough to go at his own pace, and maybe he's missing out or he's not making the right connections with people, but -

And the cloak of inadequacy wraps around him again. Because it isn't Viktor's fault that he feels inadequate, maybe he really is just not doing this ... this social interaction thing properly. Viktor Nikiforov, able to charm anyone and everyone, would have had countless trysts. He's Yuuri Katsuki, the Myoptic Wonder, lover and ex-lover to none. Maybe he really isn't enough, maybe he's just not a whole person. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

With the way his heart keeps squeezing and dropping, he's surprised his body musters the blood flow to get him moving off the ice at the early end of their practice. Viktor must have sensed that something was wrong, because he comes up to Yuuri after he's done showering and changing.

"Hey, let's go explore somewhere since we have time!"

"No, thank you," the dismissing words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop and carefully speak. He can't voice out how much Viktor's words hurt, and how he's ashamed that they even hurt him in the first place. Someone normal wouldn't have cared, right? He'd rather not deal with any confrontation, hard or soft.

Dinner proceeds in the same vein. As soon as the last grain of rice was cleared from his bowl, Viktor (who scarfed down his meal with more speed than usual) tries to intercept him before he heads to the bathroom. "Let's go soak in the hot springs together!"

Yuuri smoothly sidesteps the man and keeps walking. "I'm going to bed," he makes excuses. He doesn't want to be alone with Viktor right now. He wants to will away that aching, shitty feeling in his chest and the fog in his head. He wants to come up with a theme for his free skate.

Maybe something angsty? _Might be in bad taste_.

Viktor tries one more attempt. The man is lightning fast, already clutching his pillow and Makkachin at his heels. Yuuri's opening the door to his bedroom when Viktor catches up to him.

"Let's sleep together tonight-"

He can't really bring himself to feel ashamed of slamming the door on his coach's words. Distantly, he feels bad for probably startling poor Makkachin.

* * *

He uses that night to wallow in his feelings. He knows he sucks at getting close to people. He has a married Yuuko and an awkward Janice as two compelling cases. Friendship should be enough, because he does have friends - not many, but the ones he have are very precious to him. But he knows that in the romantic realm, he's missing something. Yuuri doesn't know if he intrinsically knows that, or he's learned that from the outside world. Maybe he could have gotten away with it, happy with what he had in his bubble of aloofness. 

He thinks some more, imagines if he tried harder to accept Janice's feelings. Would he have been more fulfilled? He reluctantly pushes forward an imagined divergence, where he didn't burst out of her embrace. He forces himself to think of holding her hand while they sit at the beach with their friends on a breezy summer night, he thinks of her kissing him on the cheek, and he thinks of the natural progression of events that would lead to her needing to be undressed in his bed.

He can't continue. The thought exercise becomes too unsettling. He's actively repulsed. 

The poster of Viktor Nikiforov on his ceiling above his bed is aggravating. Yuuri pulls his pillow out from under his head, throws it at the poster, and lets gravity smash the pillow right back on his face.

Even touching himself won't do anything - his troubles are all mental. 

By daybreak, he concludes that this is just how he is. He doesn't know if it's right or wrong, and maybe it's not his place to know. But his feelings, past and present, are part of who he is. He can't pretend otherwise, and he's not going to pretend otherwise.

By late morning, he feels slightly guilty for taking out his frustration on Viktor yesterday. The man's careless with his words, but it's not like he knows exactly how someone's going to react, right? And, maybe it was a bit rude to slam his door in his poor dog's face. And his poor face.

He's also missed about an hour of practice. Originally, he planned to ditch, but now the feelings of guilt for wasting Viktor's time eat at him. And the poor guy, alone with just his dog in a foreign country, and Yuuri's the only one he can hold a full conversation with because of the language barrier. And Yuuri cut him off last night, not just isolated Viktor with his feelings but with his silence. He tries to not think, and to let go of the feeling, but the guilt snowballs in his fidgeting body. He has to yell.

"I can't stand this guilt!" and he bursts from his blanket. The door slams open on cue and Yuuri can feel Viktor's dark expression before he sees it.

"Yuuri! Let's go to the beach!" His voice is all smiles, though. But the man didn't draw out his name, and Yuuri knows he's upset at being deflected and rudely ignored all night. Yuuri shakily acquiesces.

Even though Hasetsu is a seaside town, the beach isn't directly accessible. The two of them and Makkachin walk solemnly through town, passing the docks until they reach where the pavement breaks into gravel, and the gravel transitions to a bifurcation of coarse sand and large rocks. Makkachin dashes on ahead, and Viktor is quick to chase in fear of her jumping into the cold water. Yuuri misses Vicchan, but the hurt is already much less than before. He originally thought that Makkachin would keep rubbing the wound raw, but he's glad to be wrong. Viktor is just as picturesque chasing after her as he is on ice, and their weightless companionship makes Yuuri feel a little better. He takes a seat on one of the rocks at the edge of the sand. Makkachin whips around and bounces up to him, nosing at his lap before settling on his right. Viktor gives Yuuri a careful look, and Yuuri sees the man very deliberately sit with Makkachin as a barrier between them.

It's not a nice day. The daylight is fighting a valiant but fruitless battle against the clouds, so the rumble of fishing trawlers quiet down to just one boat.

"Wow, that's the sound of seagulls!"

Really? Viktor Nikiforov, the charming genius, is going to use that as an opening line? But from the corner of his eye, Yuuri sees that Viktor is partly captivated by the flying v-formation in the sky.

"Those are black-tailed gulls," Yuuri offers. It's not enough. He tucks his face further between his knees. He's had enough of feeling like he's not enough.

"... ever since I came here, I'm reminded of St. Petersburg when I hear the seagulls in the early morning. I expected homesickness when I left, but it's not really it."

Yuuri keeps his eyes trained on the fabric of his pants.

"I'd never thought I'd leave that city as a home, so the seagulls weren't noticeable until I left - even though it's the same sound in Hasetsu. Do you ever have times like that?"

It's the first time he's heard Viktor talk about his own thoughts and feelings without figure skating as a frame of reference. The attempt was ... attempted, and the topic not especially riveting, but that in itself was refreshing.

"When I was in Detroit, there was a girl. She was nice and funny enough, and we had the same friends. She liked me. But at the time, I felt like she was being... pushy and intrusive." He readjusts his hold on his legs. "One day, my rinkmate got hurt, and we were at the hospital together. She tried to hug and comfort me, and I reflexively pushed her away."

"Wow, why?" Yuuri can hear the raw incredulity in Viktor's voice. He supposes that it's warranted, given that he himself hasn't shared much with Viktor, either.

"... it felt like she was trying to impose feelings onto me. I may have had the same worry and fear that she thought of me, but I didn't want her - or anyone - to prescribe onto me what they think I should feel."

He considers if he should say more. He's not sure if he's conveyed his point correctly. His words are out and he can't take them back, so he elaborates. His arms loosen their grip on each other.

"My family, Minako, Yuuko and Nishigori... they're close to me but I've never felt like I had to escape them. And I realized it's because they never treated me like I'm-" He searches for the proper word, "-weak. They always had trust in me that I'd move forward by myself, and gave me the space to meet them where I wanted."

"Yuuri, you're not weak." The response is immediate. Viktor is unwavering, unquestioning in his statement. "No one else thinks that, either."

Yuuri almost lets out a snort. His lack of confidence isn't exactly the best indicator for that.

"What do you want me to be for you?" The conversation turns abruptly. "A father figure?"

"No," Yuuri mumbles.

"A brother? A friend?"

A brother means inequality between younger and older. Just a friend feels too distant.

"Ha... okay, your boyfriend, then. I'll do my best."

The words are so jarring that Yuuri jerks back in shock and a long stream of No's pour from his mouth. It's frustrating to feel the two of them groping blindly and trying to connect. Yuuri sees where he would have given up ages ago. He's beyond that now, and he's been frustrated enough.

"I-" _don't want that_ "-just want you to be you, Viktor!" He's gesticulating, he's yelling, and he's a flustered mess. "I've always looked up to you, so to have my-... my shortcomings shown to you... I couldn't. So I tried to hide." And that was the truth of it.

Viktor's looking up at him, eyes bright and clear and wholly focused on him.

"I'll make it up to you with my skating!" And before any feelings of silliness settle in from his declaration, Viktor untangles his hand from Makkachin's fur and reaches out to Yuuri. Yuuri tentatively grabs it, and it's slightly wind-chilled. The hand closes firmly around his. The cold from the wind fades quickly between the two.

Viktor stands, and steps closer to Yuuri and around Makkachin. He doesn't let go the entire time, and once he's steady on his feet he gives one deliberate pump to their clasped hands. "Okay, I won't go easy on you, then. That's how I show my love." The words don't fluster Yuuri after the talk that they had. And Yuuri thinks. He concludes that for all Viktor is touchy and overly friendly, he's always waited patiently across the line for him. He may be obnoxious and loud about it, but wherever Yuuri ends up Viktor meets him there. Each label Viktor suggested before was too confining and came with too many caveats.

And he also realizes: that is the problem of wanting to connect to someone because he feels like he obliged to connect with them a certain way. He can only connect with someone who can be mutable, who is willing to grow alongside him and their relationship be it platonic or romantic.

The trip back to Yu-topia Katsuki is more peaceful, but just as quiet as the trip from. They get back to the inn in time for dinner, but Viktor leaves him alone to digest his thoughts.

He's doing it tonight. He's going to send the email to the conservatory student. The high of resolving his trouble with Viktor makes him brave. He's quick to shoot the girl with an email, starting with a greeting, and explaining that he and his coach really want to have a self-produced free program for this season, and will she be able to kindly help out?

The response is instantaneous. He's exaggerating - it takes ten minutes - but after weeks of mulling over nothing, anything else seems quick in comparison.

_Sure, I don't mind. The last piece wasn't the greatest work, but I hope I can do something more fitting this time. Can you describe to me what you want the music to feel like?_

He pauses. Viktor's words at the beach stick out to him.

His whole life, he's been loved. He knows that, but he's never acted like it. And maybe it's time to give love where love is due.

As he's writing the response, his phone starts buzzing intermittently.

 **pchit_chu:** i found another reason 4 u to hate rice-o-roni

 **pchit_chu:** i retweeted the link 4 u

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:** where do i donate to this man

 **katsudon_y:** i want to help him

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:** OMFG im dying this is it im setting my funeral date 

 **katsudon_y:** did u watch his nachos and cheese vid its so sad but beautiful :,)

 **katsudon_y:** his expression is exquisite and not one motion is wasted

 **pchit_chu:** no omg hold on

 **pchit_chu:**  :,,,D this is performance art at its greatest

 **pchit_chu:**  hey we found it

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:** ur new free skate music wwwwwww

 **pchit_chu:** ur new free skate music :O

 **pchit_chu:** AAAAAAAAAAAAA how dare u beat me to MY joke

It's been a long time since Yuuri has laughed like he does now. Tears are streaming down his eyes, his belly aches, but he can't stop laughing at Phichit's indignation.

* * *

As his music is being redone, Yuuri and Viktor continue working on technical skills and pieces of choreography. Yuuri feels a little bad when he has Viktor demonstrate a jump yet again, when the man is all but panting over the barrier of the rink. Viktor starts to complain-compliment his stamina and good health but Yuuri isn't paying attention. Viktor's hair is swaying as the man brushes the ice off his blades, and his whorl hypnotically moves in front of Yuuri's eyes. Or that could be the fuzzy vision from not wearing his glasses.

And then the sun hits that crown of silver strands just right and Yuuri concludes that he has to do it. He was born for it, he lived his life for it, and now it's time.

He pokes Viktor directly in his hair whorl, and the sunlight seems to intensify. _I'm ascending, this was my purpose in life_ , but the moment passes as soon as a cloud blocks the rays streaming through the window. His finger is still on the whorl before he realizes that it was a pretty invasive thing to do. 

Actually, it was a pretty _Viktor_  thing to do. _Suppose students do take after their coaches..._ Yuuri removes his finger and apologizes quickly for his infraction. He doesn't expect Viktor to shakily put his hand up to where Yuuri poked.

"... is it really getting that thin?"

Yuuri screams. His offense is worse than he thought. "No no no no no everything is a-ok!!!"

"Oh... I can't believe this... I can't recover from this," and Viktor Nikiforov, skating legend, melts onto the ice, into a sad 27 year old human puddle.

Yuuri broke the man. He's never been more fucking sorry his entire life. "I'msorrypleasegetupyou'restillyouthful-" He's blubbering whatever comes to his mouth from his dogeza. He'll prostrate himself for the rest of his life if it means that Viktor will get up, "Your hair was just so nice in the sunlight and I couldn't help myself-"

A hand grabs onto his and he peeks up. Viktor is smiling, eyes crinkled, and the sun is bright behind him. Yuuri's breath has been taken away by Viktor before, but not like this. Never like this.

"I didn't know you thought I was pretty," the man says cheerily.

Yuuri's learned his lesson, and doesn't skate away from his embarrassment. He makes a weak squeak. "Let's just call it a day, please?" he says meekly.

Yuuri knows that something changed, but he can't think about that right now. Time is passing, things are happening. The redone demo finally arrives, and Yuuri thanks and pays the conservatory student for all her hard work. He can't stop himself from bursting into Viktor's room, knocking the man out of slumber and stepping on poor Makkachin's tail along the way. From Viktor's face, he knows that they've found their song.

They even change his final double into a quad toe loop. Both of them are ecstatic over the gorgeous song that the conservatory student composed, and both are eager to hear and dance to it on the ice.

Viktor asks about the theme of his song. Yuuri isn't ashamed to answer.

"The theme... is 'On my love'."

Viktor's answering smile makes him want to take extra-deep breaths, like he was feeling the new dawn rise for the first time. 

Time passes, and the choreography gets finished. The summer months beat hot in Hasetsu, and they don't spend all their time down at the rink or training outside. There are beach days. There are birthday parties. Big dinners, big gatherings. Yuuri's starting to have a respectable amount of photos on his Instagram, even if none of the pictures of him and Viktor are tagged.

There is one photo where Viktor is lying on the ground, cradling a smashed watermelon. As a joke, Mari and Yuuri drew a cute face on the melon, but Viktor grew surprisingly attached to the melon. He didn't realize that instead of chopping it up ("Humanely," he lectures), the Katsuki siblings were going to split it with a stick. The man's heart-wrenching wail after being held back by Yuuri as Mari crushed the helpless melon had the two siblings crying with laughter. Yuuri thinks in moments like these, that while skating has brought them together, while Viktor's companionship might not be permanent, he values every bit of time and self that Viktor gives to him.

He was content in just feeling his feelings before, but the realization hits him hard.

Strangled Yell Type H echoes through the inn.

 **katsudon_y:**  ABORT ABORT

 **pchit_chu:**  status report

 **katsudon_y:**  i have feelings

 **pchit_chu:**  yes i kno u r humam

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  wait u dont mean

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  are feelings supposed to hit like the bullet train

 **pchit_chu:**  which bullet train fastest from 1 to 5

 **katsudon_y:**  the 2nd fastest one 

 **katsudon_y:**  the french one

 **pchit_chu:**  ok it is serious but not life threnting

 **pchit_chu:**  wait didnt u always have these feelings wth

 **katsudon_y:**  NOT LIKE THIS

 **katsudon_y:**  the sun shines when he smiles im so fucked

 **katsudon_y:** wth is happening

 **pchit_chu:**  yuuri wth

 **pchit_chu:**  i'm actually really surprised that u didnt feel this earlier

 **pchit_chu:**  let me go reevaluate everything i kno 4 abt 5 mins

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  phichit

 **katsudon_y:**  phichit chulanont

 **katsudon_y:**  you can't go rn

 **katsudon_y:**  i don't know what to do

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri could have become another Georgi if he did the angsty music route lol
> 
> So, uh. The video that Phichit and Yuuri are talking about is this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q6KAVzPb_yQ  
> Some of you might already know what it is :O
> 
> I wrote too much.


	5. Episode 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's homework for the week (as assigned by Love-Guru Phichit Chulanont) is to think about his Feelings. And maybe he puts in so much effort, he almost ends up dying.
> 
> Also, can someone please explain what's wrong with baby blue? Is it a secret? Did Yuuri miss that special lesson in high school?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, each chapter is getting longer and longer and I'm afraid the next chapter might actually be more than 10k. I might start doing small interlude chapters, especially for romance scenes that are set in-between episodes.
> 
> This chapter was super hard to write. It's not as overtly funny as the previous ones :/

**katsudon_y:**  dude im gonna hold off on mailing the konpeito ok

 **pchit_chu:**  !!!!!!!!! I SAW OMFG CHINA CUP

 **katsudon_y:**  lol u miss me that much

 **pchit_chu:**  heck yea i get 2 c my fave boi again

 **pchit_chu:**  phiuuri beijing adventure 2k16 

 **katsudon_y:**  i m excite also

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  u ok tho

 **katsudon_y:**  just worried i guess

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  nvmd its really trivial

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  its kinda heavy having vf as ur coach y/n?

_katsudon_y is typing..._

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  kinda yeah

 **pchit_chu:**  u sudnt b looking at the tweets u kno

 **katsudon_y:**  sudnt??? u menace 'shouldn't'

 **pchit_chu:**  dude pls i am tryin 2 b encoruaging

 **pchit_chu:** SO w/e vf chose to do he did and he picked u

 **pchit_chu:**  others can talk sht all they want it dont matter ok

 **katsudon_y:**  its hard to think i deserve taking viktor from the ice tho

 **katsudon_y:**  anyways i fucked up nationals last season so i gotta qualify 4 gps again (- . -;;)

 **pchit_chu:**  dont sweat that my dude i bleive n u

 **katsudon_y:**  i dont understand how u get worse w practice typing wth

 **pchit_chu:**  well i guess u dont want my sage advice

 **katsudon_y:**  forgiveness pls

 **pchit_chu:**  tonight 7 pm my time

 **katsudon_y:**  ugh

It's 7:30AM, which means that Yuuri has less than ten minutes left to laze around on his bed before hiding his lizard self with a human semblance. Makkachin snuffles at his door (she slept with Viktor yesterday) and Yuuri groans before sliding off his bed and onto the floor. It's a hot day, but he's going to go out in public so pants are necessary. He doesn't realize that Makkachin is softly whining in harmony with his groaning and the door bursts open while only one leg is in his pants.

"Yuuri! That's a terrible attitude to have! One would think that you didn't value my time and effort," Viktor pouts. He's too enthusiastic, he's too pretty, and the sun is hitting him at the perfect angle and Yuuri wants to stop his pretty face - with something, with anything. A brick? Smothering him with his pillow? Pat his shiny silver locks (what the fuck, why is he calling them locks? _It's fucking hair_ ) and alternate smacking his face at the same time?

Also, he's wearing his I-ran-out-of-underwear boxer briefs. Yuuri intrinsically knows that this is more embarrassing than the almost nightly naked bonding time he has with Viktor in the onsen, but he can't figure out why. Either way, he still needs to finish putting on his pants.

"Please Viktor - you may own my body, but you don't own my soul in the morning," Yuuri grumbles. He has no idea what's actually coming out of his mouth. "Hating the morning is a fundamental part of who I am." Both legs in, underpants covered, and head through the right hole of his shirt. He looks over at his laundry basket. At risk of Mari suplexing him, Yuuri really needs to do laundry. He'll probably do the inn's laundry tonight, as well.

Viktor is slightly slow to respond, but he blinks and smiles. "Well- well, I'm glad you've given your body to me in your dedication!" He enters the room, and starts manhandling Yuuri out the door and down the corridor. Yuuri's socks start slipping, and the sensation makes his face twist ugly. He stays within Viktor's grip, though. "Since I now hold responsibility over this body of yours... I propose that we buy you new underwear!" His outlandish words are punctuated with a small hip check against Yuuri. "After all, katsudon needs high-quality ingredients to look and taste its best," he practically purrs in Yuuri's ear.

Yuuri doesn't even wait. He bodily sprints out of Viktor's grasp, down the hall, into the common area to grab a steamed bun, grabs his running shoes, yells 'いってきます!' back at his grinning father behind the counter, and runs out of the inn barefoot. Once he reaches down the road, he'd probably be safe enough to slow down and put his shoes on. Yuuri's figured out the formula - if he doesn't scream, Viktor can't anticipate him running. Also, it turns out that he usually starts screaming first before any other action, so the sound gives him away.

(' _You've picked up some strange habits in America,_ ' his mother has commented. Yuuri blames Phichit.)

His coach is thoroughly put out when he catches up with Yuuri at Ice Castle Hasetsu.

"I don't see why-"

"Please, Viktor; mercy," Yuuri begs. He's not afraid to admit it - right now, he's begging. First of all, no one's ever bought underwear for him since he's graduated high school (and that was his mother); and secondly, he's still trying to come to terms with his... _feelings_  for Viktor and having the man offer anything to do with his anything is just too much before noon.

Viktor thankfully just gives his signature cheeky, wide-mouthed grin and Yuuri pretends that he isn't having heart palpitations in the interim. Yuuri absently finds the shape of the smile to look like a heart. And he now knows he's completely done for.

He looks like a tomato and futilely tries to keep his face angled away from Viktor in shame. He steps onto the ice and Viktor walks towards the exit of the rink. 

"Yuuri, warm up. I'll be back," his coach calls out.

Yuuri nods before he realizes that Viktor can't see his affirmation. He flushes further, looks up, but Viktor is already gone. _Good._  He needs to think. He needs to keep his head together. Viktor put fog in his head, heat in his face, and tremors in his chest since day one. The nervousness of wanting to live up to Viktor's standards, the bewilderment in face of Viktor's social bluntness, and the acknowledgment of his own insensitivity to certain subtleties all bundle up into a ball of anxiety that keeps him out of his head and struggling to keep afloat. Only Phichit's pacing has him living as presently as Viktor does, but the stakes in his and Phichit's relationship aren't as high.

These feelings aren't ones that Yuuri actively pursues - he thinks of them like the anticipation of fear and adrenaline from a haunted house in that not everyone wants to be subjected to it. Viktor has since dialed back a few months ago, after Onsen on Ice. Yuuri finds more room to breathe and think, but the heaviness lingers close and threatens to close on him every so often. And now, he's changed from merely dealing with his inevitable waves of flustered confusion, to half-wanting those waves to hit him hard and half-fearing when those waves would drag him out to sea and destroy him.

It's a crush and even Yuuri knows that much. He just didn't know that it's possible to learn to enjoy dread.

"Yuuri, that free leg is looking much better!" He feels it now, how his heart beats faster and his muscles try to hard-wire his previous jump as a reflex for the sake of pleasing Viktor. He's not in control and his body doesn't care, his mind mostly doesn't care, but whatever primal instinct dedicated to self-preservation is desperately screaming for him to back off, to leave while he still can.

Yuuri lets himself do one figure-eight to let his blush wear off before he skates over to Viktor. The Russian skater is leaning against the barrier, right arm propping up his chin and other arm draped on the railing. Objectively, Viktor Nikiforov is beautiful. Subjectively, if Yuuri were to be permitted to stare at Viktor all day, every day he'd die happy. Hearing the man instruct, converse, and laugh would be a bonus. Doing all of these things while it was only the two of them at a low table and a bowl of katsudon each, that would be bliss-

"Yuuri, stop," and Yuuri blinks himself back to the outside world. And he nearly screams because Viktor's face is only a foot away. And maybe Viktor's starting to learn him too well because beautiful, pale hands cup his face gently before Yuuri can launch himself backwards from the barrier at full speed.

"You've been all but destroying your lip lately," Viktor says softly, and Yuuri has to disagree, because when has he been doing- "Stop biting your lip, Yuuri." 

A thumb gently pries his bottom lip free of his incisors. _Oh._

"What's gotten you so nervous?" The other man's eyes look like they're begging Yuuri for answers that he can't give, won't give. "You're more than ready for the regional competition..."

The thumb is rubbing his lip. _Oh wow, I have lips_.

"Really Yuuri, you need to take better care of yourself," Viktor chides, his voice at the volume of an intimate murmur. Yuuri thinks they're probably standing closer now. He feels no desire to move away, even though his heart is literally trying to jump out of his chest.

Hands are off his face and Yuuri thinks he's crazy, because he feels disappointment (for what? What did he want to happen?) before one hand is holding his chin, and the other is using the index finger to paint lip balm onto his chewed lips.

Yuuri remembers to protest a few minutes too late. "I do take care of myself. Just because I don't buy 5000 yen lip balm doesn't mean-"

Viktor's finger comes down as a playful thwack! on his lips. "This is proof you don't, Yuuri." And he spins Yuuri around by the shoulders, and nudges him back towards the center of the ice.

"Eros, from the top. No music."

Yuuri prepares to hold his starting pose-

"Seduce me!" Viktor yells across the ice, his mouth probably in that dumb, endearing heart-shaped open smile.

This, Yuuri knows, is just fooling around. He's paid his dues and tripped face first, stumbling over his toe pick, when Viktor gave this rallying cry in the beginning. It's been three weeks, and Yuuri exhales a small sigh of exasperation before starting the choreography.

* * *

**katsudon_y:**  ok im back tell me things

 **pchit_chu:**  u got frozen fruit 4 hte tradition

 **katsudon_y:**  no i am here to learn about

 **katsudon_y:**  feelings

 **katsudon_y:**  i dont need our precomp hype

 **pchit_chu:**  u have regionals n im not there to hype u up

 **katsudon_y:**  save it 4 china cup ok :DD

 **pchit_chu:** YES ok now onto important stff

 **katsudon_y:**  so i have come to terms w it

 **katsudon_y:**  i have what the youngsters call a 'crush'

 **pchit_chu:**  yes yes ok n i know u r confused on wtd

 **katsudon_y:** ya

 **pchit_chu:**  u want 2 b near him and talk 2 him all the time

 **katsudon_y:**  sometimes hes dumb so no

 **katsudon_y:**  wait its even when hes being dumb and whiny

 **pchit_chu:**  friend u are so gone

 **pchit_chu:**  well besides frm getting to know the other person more

 **pchit_chu:**  ppl usually want to also do stuff together

 **katsudon_y:**  ah enlightening

 **katsudon_y:**  'do stuff' "together""""""

 **pchit_chu:**  dude calm ur sass i am trying 2 help u

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  ok ok forgiveness

 **pchit_chu:**  i know u nervous but i got u ok

 **pchit_chu:**  u used 2 freak out when he got near u and it made u nervous

 **pchit_chu:**  now?????

 **katsudon_y:**  still yes but i??? like??? the suffering now????

 **pchit_chu:**  ok ok good 

 **katsudon_y:**  wth not good fix me

 **pchit_chu:**  i want u 2 do exercise n no interruption

 **pchit_chu:** think of viktor looking at u

 **pchit_chu:**  his hands on ur face

 **katsudon_y:**  not hard to imagine something that's already happened 10mil x

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  !!!!!!!!!! we will talk about this later but wth i said dont interrupt

 **pchit_chu:**  now he closes his eyes and moves closer

 **pchit_chu:**  imagine moving closer and just touching ur lips together

Yuuri screams. He listens to Phichit and follows his instructions and at the final step, he screams. 

Because, what the hell? He can tell that the sharp burst of sensation through him isn't just embarrassment anymore, it's also _excitement_.

What changed from four months ago? What's _wrong_  with him?

Mari bursts into his room, tissue in hand. "Oh, I thought it was Viktor screaming about a house centipede again," she grumbles. She takes one look at her younger brother's face, puts the tissue back into her pocket, and fishes out a cigarette instead.

Yuuri grimaces at her. "Please don't smoke in my room." Mari ignores him and clicks her lighter.

"Tell me what's wrong," she gestures with her cigarette hand to spread the smoke more, "and I'll leave." 

Yuuri doesn't really know where to start. On one hand, his problems don't seem like a big deal - he doesn't see other people worried about the same thing. But on the other hand, they certainly feel like a big deal to himself, and his feelings are valid... he assumes. And on his imaginary third hand, he has no idea what to do about this situation. What does he want?

"Is it about Viktor?"

Yuuri nods. It's easier to let Mari to find where to best meet him in a conversation.

"Your creepy fangirling over him turned into a real crush?" Mari helpfully suggests.

"...s'not creepy," Yuuri weakly protests. 

Mari immediately points to the poster above his bed on his ceiling. Yuuri promptly tears it down (gently) and shoves it in his closet (gently).

"I don't know how to explain," Yuuri admits. "I don't know how to begin."

Mari exhales a puff of smoke. "Pick one thing that's bothering you; anything. Doesn't have to be the starting point, doesn't have to be the most important point."

Her smoke rings distract Yuuri for a bit before he feels his phone buzz. But he owes Mari the courtesy of his time - years beyond childhood and she's still calmly standing there and waiting for questions. So he ignores Phichit's messages for now.

"So... I guess the most immediate thing is - I feel strange. And maybe like I'm lying to myself." Mari continues to smoke, her silence and stoicism encouraging him to continue. "I know I have a crush on Viktor. And I can't do anything about that. I just... I just feel scared of myself. For myself. Because of how different my perspective is on Viktor before and after liking him. Things I want and don't want. Things I'm comfortable with and uncomfortable with. I can see myself changing and I don't know if I should be. Or if I should even care."

"People change all the time, and it's natural. Otherwise nothing would happen," Mari remarks dryly.

Yuuri sighs. "Not like that-"

"Then maybe an example?" Mari lowers the cigarette from her face.

Yuuri squirms because he knows she knows. Probably. "... don't ask why, but I was imagining kissing Viktor before. Before I liked him like that - I mean. And it feels totally different from now?"

"You didn't like him before, so kissing him felt uncomfortable ("I didn't kiss him, I _thought_  about kissing him," "Whatever,"). You like him now, so naturally you'd want to get close."

"But how does something change that drastically? Viktor's still the same person." Yuuri looks down at himself. "I think I'm still the same person. And I definitely really liked Yuuko before and I didn't want to kiss her at all. Actually," he tries to remember, "it grossed me out."

"And what's wrong with that?" Mari holds the cigarette at the corner of her lips and crosses her arms. "What's wrong with wanting to kiss someone and not wanting to kiss someone else, even if you like them? Every person is different, and you can't force the same reaction and feelings on them."

"It just feels... weird. Or like I'm breaking a rule. Two different people that I liked, but I've changed my mind on what I'm supposed to feel towards them. And even the same person, I've changed my mind."

"Yuuri, people are allowed to change their minds. You can like something and not like it tomorrow. You can hate something and like it later. Example: if I wasn't allowed to change my feelings, I'd still be with Tomoya and the Douche Squad," Mari explains exasperatedly.

"I-I guess..." Tomoya was a plague, as both of their mild-mannered parents would say - proof that he was the actual Worst of the Worst.

"Honestly," Mari interrupts, "the only thing worth worrying about are the consequences of changing your mind and feelings. Some can affect your actions, and that can involve just you or other people. Those effects can also either be big or small."

It is a very utilitarian way of looking at it, but Yuuri thinks that a bit of rationale might be what he needs.

"It's not like dealing with yourself changing is going to be easy, but maybe now you can stop screaming so much."

"I'll try-"

"Good. Because new screaming hours are from 11AM to 8PM, or until 10PM in the outdoor bath just in case Viktor's being weird again. Also, no screaming because of sex, ever."

" _Mari-neechan!_ "

She walks out of the room, the faint tobacco smoke trailing after her hand. Yuuri immediately shuts the door behind her. He looks back at his phone.

_pchit_chu has sent you 15 messages_

**pchit_chu:**  yuuri yuuri yuuri my dude finish ur screaming pls

 **pchit_chu:**  results???!?!?!?!?

 **katsudon_y:**  im screwed bc i h;iahfoiwejofwe

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  it felt spicy huh ;)

 **katsudon_y:**  disgusting choice of words

 **katsudon_y:**  but yes uuuuuugggggggggh

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**kastudon_y:**  BUT THAT DOES NOT MEAN I WANT TO GO KISS HIM

 **pchit_chu:**  ik there r other things 2 consider

 **pchit_chu:**  but this is a good first step

 **katsudon_y:**  uuuuuuuuuuuugggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhh

 **katsudon_y:**  i dont want feelings

 **katsudon_y:**  殺してくだいさい

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  ok i had 2 goog translate 4 that one n no i will not kill u

 **pchit_chu:**  having feelings is good

 **pchit_chu:**  ur hw is 2 think what u want 2 happen bc those feelings

 **pchit_chu:**  due after next week when u come home w gold at regionals

_katsudon_y sent a picture_

**katsudon_y:**  enjoy daily dog n i hate you

* * *

It's three days before the regional competition and Yuuri is in Fukuoka. He's walking around in a department store, debating whether or not to hide in a rack of clothes while Viktor isn't looking. Apparently, the idea of underwear shopping becomes a fixation in his coach's mind, so Yuuri finds himself with an enthusiastic styling assistant in the form of tall, Russian, and skater. _And hot_. Yuuri can't help himself if his mouth automatically parts in awe whenever he looks at Viktor. He knows he has a problem - he's always had a problem with respect to Viktor Nikiforov.

"Yuuri! Come over here, do you like boxers or briefs?" Also, Viktor Nikiforov has a problem. With respect to his underwear.

"Uh, I'm just going to go over to the formal wear section," Yuuri has never deflected as hard as he's doing right now. He gracelessly hurries over to the selection of dress shirts and Viktor catches up to him.

"Yuuuuuriiiii," the man whines. "You didn't answer my question!" _That's because your question is insane_. It's time for more deflecting.

Yuuri quickly pulls out a random shirt to act as a barrier between him and Viktor's too-cute-to-be-legal pout. "What about this shirt?!" He blurts out in a panic.

"... baby blue is not your color." Good, it's not smooth, but he averts the crisis of the day. _But isn't it just a color? Baby blue looks nice?_

They whittle the day away with shopping and window shopping, Viktor calling it a 'betrayal' when Yuuri sneaks behind his back into a Uniqlo and buys underwear as fast as he can without the other man looming over him.

"You didn't even consult me!" Yuuri may like the Russian skater, but he'd be damned if he didn't want to smother him with a pillow every so often.

 **katsudon_y:** hes such a whiner

 **katsudon_y:** i had no idea what i was signing up 4

 **pchit_chu:** check what i retweeted 4 u it will cheer u up

 **pchit_chu:** my first thought was

 **pchit_chu:** this is vfs hype playlist intro

 _katsudon_y is_ _typing..._

 **katsudon_y:** OH MY FUCKIGN GOD

 **katsudon_y:** this is it u doomed me

 **katsudon_y:** he can prob read my mind and know that we made fun of him

 **pchit_chu:** but think about it

 **pchit_chu:** u may die but u die holding The Truth

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**pchit_chu:** its his song

 **katsudon_y:** it

 **katsudon_y:** is his song

It's two days before the regional competition and Viktor is prodding him awake. The two of them are in their shared hotel room with double beds, Yuuri's budget not really allowing anything else. The lackluster hotel coffee is brewing on the side and once Yuuri starts to blink sleepily and slowly stretch under his covers, Viktor is grinning his big, heart-shaped smile and placing a warm cup on Yuuri's nightstand. 

"Good morning, Yuuri!" 

And Yuuri blinks and opens his eyes fully. It feels like he's in some limbo - if purgatory could be a frozen heaven of the spaces in-between time - and he can't describe the feeling that's squeezing his heart. The soft morning light is not intrusive in how it gives the entire section where Viktor is standing a subtle ethereal glow. The remnant of sleep in his eyes and his poor vision make it difficult to see exactly what Viktor is doing, but his crazy brain is telling him that none of it matters. Yuuri's never felt so present in a situation, mind so blank and content as he watches Viktor button up his shirt and roll up his sleeves.

"We're going to the festival today, right? I've never been to a festival! Do we get to dress up?"

Yuuri's mother, ever fretful, helped Yuuri pack his luggage for the Chuugoku, Shikouku, and Kyuushuu Championship. She was the one to put the idea of stopping by Fukuoka for some new clothes and festivities before arriving at Okayama. And she's picked out two yukata for Viktor and Yuuri to wear, and shoved them into his suitcase.

"Yes, we do." Viktor's smile looks so warm and excited that Yuuri can't help but let out a sleepy chuckle. "I'll help you with the yukata, so I hope that your first festival will be memorable." It's the least he can do for the incredible force of nature in human form that burst into his life and decided to see worth in him. He's whiny, he's overly-intrusive, but he's met Yuuri at every step of the way, and he's never pushed for more than what Yuuri is already willing to give.

The morning and early afternoon is for touring the entire city, Viktor gleefully snapping pictures every so often and voraciously devouring Yuuri's explanations to his questions. Yuuri follows at a more sedate pace, hand occasionally coming up to catch a picture of Viktor for Snapchat (Phichit convinced him to get one as a way to interact with his fans at a more manageable distance). Every single one of his Viktor snaps are captioned with '27 yo puppy', which isn't much of a stretch with the man bouncing all over the street, looking at this and that.

He saves the most enthusiastic photo to his camera roll, the one where Viktor is pointing at a distance with one hand and the other is desperately waving towards Yuuri to tell him to catch up. He uploads it to his Instagram sans caption and location and hashtags, but Phichit immediately likes it. 

 **pchit_chu:**  u r so far gone 

 **pchit_chu:**  i'll prob only see u again in the next life

 **katsudon_y:**  i thought u told me to just feel my feelings

 **pchit_chu:**  i did i did and u dont have to say anything rn

 **pchit_chu:**  just wondering if u know what u want from ur feelings

He gets it. He does. Phichit is coming from a place of concern, and Yuuri is glad that he cares. It's all new, it's all confusing but good. He finds himself caught up in the giddiness of _liking_ someone that he occasionally looks in a mirror to see if he's a different person. Nope, still Yuuri Katsuki, the most average skater certified by the JSF.

Phichit made a promise that they weren't going to talk about this more until after the Regionals. Yuuri puts those thoughts from his head and just lets himself really enjoy his time with Viktor for the night. He's proud of his steady hands as he robes Viktor, the other looking down at him through his silver fringe. There's something about his smile that makes Yuuri's mouth run dry, and those blue eyes blink lazy and content at him as Yuuri straightens the yukata in front.

The night goes fast, and even though Yuuri doesn't allow himself to gorge on takoyaki and dango and manju and taiyaki (curse his self-restraint, and Viktor) he feels more excitement and satisfaction from a festival than he's ever felt before. He's never had anyone pull him from stall to stall (he used to trail after Yuuko and Nishigori as they decided where to go and turned back to ask if it was okay. It was always okay). He's never had the thrill of light inebriation in public, with most of his drunk adventures being in private settings. Viktor turns to him, face and grin glowing under the lanterns, and Yuuri needs to capture the moment. He's hit with the fevered thought that the warm hand guiding him forward, ecstatic grin on that ~~dumb~~ (not dumb, but beautiful as hell) face, that these are things worthy of preserving forever.

He's fumbling to unlock the phone in his hand, and it takes minutes after uploading the photo to Instagram to realize that it wasn't his phone that he used. Yuuri looks down at Viktor's phone. He's been holding it since Viktor wanted to try goldfish scooping (and failed miserably at). It strikes him, in that warm haze of beer and affection, that Viktor has long since trusted him with the passcode to his phone - starting from music playback during practice and now for photographs. It strikes him that he rarely (only on occasion, only in jest) thinks of Viktor as Viktor Nikiforov - he's just Viktor.

It's one day before the regional competition and the two of them are lazily making their way up to Okayama. Yuuri's still digesting thoughts from the night before. Viktor cheerfully, casually, adds a caption to the photo that Yuuri has accidentally uploaded.

"This is a really good photo - thank you, Yuuri," Viktor says, like it's business as usual.

Yuuri wants to ask if Viktor thinks that this is weird. But he doesn't feel like he has the right to, not if he doesn't even know his own feelings correctly. He doesn't check the updated photo on his own phone.

 _Isn't this weird, Viktor?_  The train is almost empty except for them. Yuuri fades in and out of sleep, his earbuds in and his phone looping through the pre-competition hype playlist that Phichit has painstakingly curated for them both. For the little time he's known the Thai skater, their antics feel like repeated habits over a decade. He doesn't know if he can get through tomorrow without a night with Phichit, both on a single bed and eating frozen blueberries from the local supermarket as a poor substitute for dessert. Both joking and talking and listening to shitty pop music that no one in their right mind would skate to.

 **katsudon_y:**  wish me luck 

 **pchit_chu:**  destroy them all (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧

It's the day of the regional competition and Yuuri thinks he's going to die of a heart attack. He's the oldest skater there, so his age already makes him predisposed to going into cardiac arrest. Stressors in the environment also contribute to his failing health.

_Don't draw number 1, don't draw number 1...._

It's not polite to scream in public, Yuuri has to remind himself as he stares at the piece of paper with '1' in bold ink. It's not Hasetsu, with locals that knew Yuuri from diapered baby to barely composed adult. He is not allowed to scream. It will reflect badly on Viktor as his coach.

One of the competitors, a small thing with shockingly bright yellow and red hair, nearly squeals. "I'm so lucky - I get to see you draw the first spot in person again, Yuuri-kun!"

Yuuri is baffled. _Again?_  Apart from feeling like the teen just admitted to some deviant pleasure in watching his suffering, he also feels like he's missing something in this conversation.

"Ah! You don't remember me??" The teen's all but pouting. "What a letdown!"

Yuuri has no time to worry about his competition, he needs to worry about his own fraying nerves. Viktor isn't helping at all, because Yuuri's finally feeling the stress of what this competition means. He's already dying, and Viktor's words to the interviewers are just hurrying him along into his grave.

"-so he can take it easy and just earn a personal best score today!" Yuuri wants to just grab the man by his lapels and shake him until all of his hair falls out.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but I told you many times," Yuuri starts, voice level but not pausing for Viktor to interject. "I bombed everything at Nationals. I was destroyed. Everyone wondered if I got hurt, but absolutely nothing was physically wrong with me." He's aware that his breathing is becoming more labored, and his teeth are in a wooden facsimile of a grin in order to not start yelling. "I lost despite being a top contender, because I was mentally weak. So you can't just say stuff like that."

Viktor blinks, also forgetting that they're in front of the cameras. "Wow."

Yep, an underwhelming 'wow' is all Yuuri can say to his own career as well. Viktor tries to keep his spirits up after that subpar interview but Yuuri can't muster beyond a dry response to Viktor's antics. He objectively knows that he's been putting in hard work to remake himself, but he's lost all measure of his own abilities. And after the disaster of last season, he still wakes up doubting the actual existence of his abilities, contrary to all the trophies that his parents proudly display around the inn.

The kid from before stares at him throughout morning practice, and Yuuri has to keep covertly checking his pants to see if his underwear is sticking out or something. _At least it'd be the nice new ones I bought_. The staring is unnerving in that he can't figure out _why_ it's happening.

But no, Yuuri shakes his head. He can't afford to let anyone else in his head. He can't afford to leave his head. Those two sentences become his mantra for the day, and well into the early evening after Yuuri's zips up his Eros costume and pulls his sports hoodie over it. He blinks and realizes that he hasn't seen Viktor all day apart from the man trying to make him laugh with his Makkachin tissue box.

He briskly makes his way to the entrance of the rink, where spectators are flooding in. By chance, he manages to catch Minako and Nishigori near the benches and goes to greet them before asking about Viktor's whereabouts-

And a contingent of high-pitched screams echo in the foyer. _Me too, I want to scream too_ , Yuuri quickly looks over to where the screams originated. And he sees Viktor in a devastatingly gorgeous two-piece suit, black tie, and fitted leather gloves, all black and white cut sharp. Yuuri is used to the enjoyable dread that comes with having a crush, but the heavy feeling of his tongue with the simultaneous fog and clear focus in his head is so foreign. It would be just his luck to catch a cold right before he can even qualify for this year's Grand Prix Series.

And then he really starts to feel sick, looking at Viktor preening in his bespoke suit. Because this is Viktor's official debut as his coach, and while Yuuri's ignored (more or less) the disparaging comments online saying that Viktor Nikiforov has better things to do than to waste his air breathing life back into some mediocre skater's dying career-

He's going to fuck up and it doesn't matter if he drags his already mediocre career down to hell, but to pull his idol's reputation along with him is a gut-twisting threat looming over his entire night.

He can't even bring himself to respond to Viktor as he playfully tries his hand at hyping Yuuri up during the six minute warm-up. He wishes that he can see it like Viktor, that this competition is just a cute pit stop without any pressure. But it's not - it's the gatekeeper to his goal and after last year, he's lost the ability and the right to say that he'll definitively win. Viktor scowls at him as he makes his way over to grab a final drink of water before going to die (skate, he reminds himself) on ice.

The scowl fades as soon as Yuuri gets close enough to notice the furrows of Viktor's brow soften. "Yuuri, turn around," he says gently. At Yuuri's hesitance, Viktor's irritation returns through his voice. "Just do it, okay?!"

Yuuri hurries to comply, and as he carefully backs into the partition, he feels a burning heat enveloping his backside and across his chest. Viktor ( _it has to be Viktor, but why on earth is it Viktor?_ ) rests his head on Yuuri's left shoulder blade, and Yuuri thanks the heavens that it wasn't the mesh side of the costume. He's spent the whole day transitioning from Viktor-the-crush to Viktor-Nikiforov-the-world-class-skater-and-his-coach, and this gesture smashes the delicate barricade in his mind. Actual face to flesh contact (even through mesh) would probably liquefy Yuuri's brain and have it dribbling out his nostrils.

Peripherally, he's aware of the flashing cameras and the loud whispers, but his senses are only on Viktor. He can feel the tilt of the man's head, and waft of cologne curling to his left.

Viktor's voice is low, a dangerous hum. "... seduce me with all you have," honeyed words drilling into Yuuri's head. "If your performance can enthrall me, then you can enthrall the entire audience. That's what I always say in practice, right?"

_Not like this. Never like this._

All of his innards become numb as he takes his position on the ice. He's only limbs, heart, and blood. The music starts and he tries to remember where Viktor is, and throws his smoulder that way. He tries to show that yes, he's worth it, that he's enthralling and seductive. The thought transforms as he reaches the second half of the skate, and the burden of proving that he's worthy of Viktor's time and effort has him over-rotating his Salchow and touching down, and downgrading his quad triple to a quad double.

But worst of all is that he knows he lost the story halfway through. _Okay, how did that story go-? That's right, the woman casts aside the man she seduced and leaves for the next man!_   The final combination spin has him playing catch up, and his final pose doesn't sit right on his form.

The crowd unmutes raucously itself in his ears, but he's already dreading Viktor's response. And of course, his coach's smile and clapping can only be described as tepid.

"The first half was great, but you were too focused on the jumps in the second, so your performance got sloppy-"

"Yes, sir."

"-I'm not into technical perfection with terrible program components-"

"Yes, sir, I apologize."

What else can Yuuri say? He doesn't feel like a complete human being today, he's aware of the mounting pressure of looking good, of winning, of proving himself to Viktor and the world. He achieves a personal best with a 94.36 - the score ranking among top ten worldwide if included on official records.

Viktor's lips are pursed and he hums thoughtfully. "Since you weren't under pressure, I thought you'd score in the hundreds." One, Yuuri needs to schedule the man an appointment with the optometrist because anyone with eyes can see that he's under so much fucking pressure; two, just because he's smiling and wiggling his cute Makkachin tissue box around, it doesn't mean he's being nice and encouraging.

"Ah. Yes, you've scored above a hundred points to break the world record multiple times," Yuuri responds dryly, "all breaking your own records again and again. Of course." Yuuri wonders if the local shrine offers glue for spirits, specifically to keep his soul bound to his soft, shitty body.

Viktor probably senses Yuuri's ill mood, because he's quick to raise the Makkachin plush to his face and speak in a more upbeat tone. "So, Yuuri, about tomorrow's free skate-" Yuuri feels his stomach bracing. "-lower the difficulty of the jumps and focus on the performance." Cue stomach drop.

"But-"

"You've never nailed them all consecutively during practice, have you?"

Yuuri's protests are trampled.

"It's not a bad idea to lower the difficulty early in the season, is it?" The beady eyes of the plush toy winks under the lights of the rink.

Yuuri feels that while Viktor speaks the truth, that it's a truth for accomplished and confident skaters who know that their performance can bring them up and their technical difficulty can be ramped. While Yuuri has always scored higher in his program components, he's not confident in his technical skill. Doing those jumps every time, even if he fails, is part of the reassurance and familiarity he needs. And if he doesn't do those jumps now, when will he do them? Never?

Newscaster Morooka finds them again, and Yuuri is slightly grateful that someone is interrupting this confusing discussion between him and Viktor. Their interview is cut short when the staring teen comes into the foyer and puffs himself up in front of Yuuri.

"Did you see my "Lohengrin" performance, Yuuri-kun?" 

Viktor is watching the byplay of enthusiasm with interest, not actually understanding the Japanese from the boy's mouth. Yuuri nervously eyes him before facing the teen, and apologizes for being interviewed at the time.

He expected some disappointment, or some good-natured forgiveness. What he doesn't expect is the teen to almost burst into messy sobbing.

"I even had a similar costume made to the one of your famous "Lohengrin" program-"

 _Kami-sama save me_. Yuuri almost cringes when the teen tears open his sports jacket and reveals a costume reminiscent of embarrassing times. He still wonders who thought it was okay to let young Yuuri Katsuki dress himself. And choreograph. And just let him out in public, in general.

The teen nearly combusts in his fervor at Yuuri's reaction to the costume. "Are you making fun of me for looking up to you and trying to catch up to you all this time?! We're on the same stage right now, so I'm going to give tomorrow's free skate every I've got! Please give it your all, too, Yuuri-kun - I won't forgive you if you slack off!"

This short, colorful kid keeps surprising Yuuri. He's not aware that he's worth looking up to, and for so long? And to be challenged, like he's a mountain worth climbing, is the most bizarre thing to imagine. Sure, he's in first place. Sure, his entire competition is just high schoolers. But he remembers the teen now, Kenjirou Minami from the Nationals - with a total score that obliterated Yuuri's because he was too busy self-destructing.

He's not going to be able to follow Viktor's bullshit advice on 'peaking' for the Grand Prix Finals. He doesn't work that way - he's been inconsistent enough with his mentality that he doesn't need to manage himself physically too. And now with Minami saying those things to him, any move to not try and skate his best (what he knows that can become his best) is beyond disrespectful. He recalls that feeling of being thought of as a common fan by Viktor at Sochi last year, and he can't bring himself to do that to someone else. Minami's beaten him before, so Yuuri can't do them both a disservice and not perform to the best of his ability.

* * *

He's a hot mess by the time warmup is called the next day. Viktor leaves him alone after a stilted discussion on only keeping his quad toe loop in the free skate as part of the starting quad triple combination. He tries not to react when listening to Newscaster Morooka discuss the technical components of his free program.

"I'm going to do a quad, too!"

"Really? You've never landed one, not even in practice! ... Ok, I'll try one, too!"

"Ok, me too!"

 _Even these kids have more will to skate as they please, despite having a lower score_. They're not doing it to win, Yuuri reasons out, but for the excitement of accomplishing something. How long has it been where Yuuri has seen a competitive skater try something new right in the middle of a competition? The bravery to step out and do something for the sake of it, and not as a result of polished calculation... Yuuri thinks that he might have to disappoint Viktor, but the thought of disobeying Viktor and adding his quads back in leave as quickly as they entered his mind. 

He hands his blade guards over to Viktor, and catches Minami's eyes. The teen's gaze is trying to elicit some response, but Yuuri can't bring himself to interact. He can't afford to leave his head. The thought of disobedience flit back into his thoughts. Yuuri grimaces and looks away. He hears Minami's cry of dismay, but he's already moving on the ice and can't do anything about it. The guilt churns low in his abdomen.

His warmup is brief, no jumps. "Yuuri," Viktor calls out. He's leaning on the barrier, his form severely beautiful. The frown on his face stops Yuuri from waxing poetic in his mind.

"How can someone who can't motivate others, motivate himself?" Those quiet words sting. Viktor slaps down the blade guards in a deliberate motion, and Yuuri winces. "I'm quite disappointed in you." And he walks away.

The guilt in his stomach bubbles up into a monster. He's out here to prove himself to Viktor and the world, and he just failed a test without realizing it. _But_ , Yuuri stops himself from crumbling, _I can fix this_.

He looks out onto the ice, where Minami is quaking and stiff in front of his coach. He feels like he's looking into a mirror, and almost lets out a laugh. Yes, he may have fucked up earlier but he can still fix it.

"頑張って、南くん、頑張れ!" And like a wilted flower given water, Minami perks up and beams like the gods themselves kissed him on the cheek. Yuuri catches Viktor's bemused but proud look in his periphery, and then he turns back to give his competitor the attention they deserve.

Kenjirou Minami has the makings of a powerhouse skater in the future, but he's still too inconsistent. Yuuri can see how the teen has the charisma to involve the audience in his presentation. Some skaters need the perfect song and evocation to bring up their program components, but there are the rare few like Viktor who can just rely on their natural charm and charisma. Yuuri blinks and grins when he sees Minami land a quad toe loop. 

He's seen all he needs to see, and takes his gym bag with him as he steps outside into the parking garage. The guilt from snubbing the younger skater is no longer there, and he can now take the time to focus on himself. His earbuds are blasting music, neither Eros or his new song Yuuri on Ice. He gets his stretching done, and decides that for his own sake, he needs to renege on his promise of only one quad. Yuuri on Ice is _his_  song, and after watching Minami skate his heart out on the ice, Yuuri feels himself being drawn to do exactly the same.

After all, how can he call it his song if he can't skate his best to it?

He marches back into the rink eighteen minutes later, shoulders squared and eyes focused like he's thinking of murder. People step out of his way, and part like curtains until he reaches Minami. In a way, he has to thank the teen. Yuuri's never felt more determined and defiant before a competition, and it's due to Kenjirou Minami's skating that he opened his eyes. Feeling some of the bravado and camaraderie that only Phichit could bring up in him during a competition, he gives Minami a good hearty thump on the back.

 _Too hard?_  Minami's eyes water. _Eh, he's young, he'll live._

His mind stays clear as he sheds his coat. Viktor's in front of him, readily taking the coat from him and murmuring sweet compliments about his costume choice. Yuuri feels the pre-competition nerves rear their head, and he forcibly shoves them back down. He lets Viktor fuss over him with a stoic face, even as he applies his lip balm onto Yuuri's lips. Viktor's the one hugging him now, whispering soft words of encouragement throughout. Yuuri feels that if he opens his mouth, any control he has on himself presently will escape past his lips. So he can't thank Viktor and preemptively apologize for disobeying, but he brings a deliberate hand up to the back of Viktor's neck, and gives a firm touch before stalking out of his embrace and onto the ice.

It's just him and the ice. Yuuri lets out a breath and the piano starts. For now, it's just the piano, and it's just Yuuri in the past - post-Grand Prix Final, alone and lost but still capable.

He jumps and lands a quad double toe loop. He'll make the triples into doubles if he has to, but Viktor's going to have to skate onto the ice himself and sit on him to stop Yuuri from doing his quads.

He goes into a flying sit spin, and the high of daring to defy Viktor Nikiforov starts to kick in. The song speaks of all the work put into this program, how he's had to come together and bare himself in front of the one person he's never dared to show his weakness to. And to hide away and reject everything that made this song, this program, what it is and will become?

Yuuri won't. He refuses.

The drum kicks in, he feels the shock of Viktor barging into his life like the cold front that swept through Kyuushuu that very week. The drum escalates, goading the piano to pick up the pace but not overpowering the melody. The violin pushes from the back, urging him forward. He takes a deep breath and begins to follow Viktor's pace in earnest and the piano becomes more energized.

He throws himself into the quad Salchow, but steps out of the landing. He knows it's fine, he's not shaken. It takes time to keep up with Viktor, to get used to the man.

Yuuri goes into his combination spin unsteady (as he gets to know Viktor, he's no longer Viktor Nikiforov the legendary skater. He's just Viktor, but just Viktor is more than any of the titles he owns) and Yuuri leaves his camel spin steady and strong.

The violin and drums cut off, and the piano transitions into a contemplative melody. Yuuri thinks about what 'just Viktor' means to him. Crush non-withstanding, Viktor coming into his life has caused a major upheaval. Beyond throwing himself into skating, he hasn't been living life as presently as he does now. It's not that he needs Viktor to live (nothing so dramatic) but he wouldn't have seen the things that were already in his life without Viktor to point them out.

He goes into his Ina Bauer with as much gratitude and affection that he can muster. For his parents. For his sister, eternally patient. For Minako, always supporting. Yuuko and Nishigori, two constants that have oriented his world throughout the years. Phichit, the new friend made old. And for Viktor.

Yuuri feels as though he can fly, the airtime for his triple axel dilates from seconds to hours. The piano picks up again, in time with the violin in perfect harmony and the drums beating like his zero-chill heart whenever Viktor smiles that heart-shaped grin.

And that's how it feels, Yuuri realizes, as he tears through his triple flip and triple single triple combination. His affection for Viktor, while terrifying, makes him want to jump into flames and enjoy it. He knows it's crazy. He's terrified of closing that final gap between his and Viktor's lips, but he wants it. He wants it all like he wants to skate Yuuri on Ice, jump after jump luring him forward - even as his final attempted quad lures him face-first into a fucking wall, Yuuri can't bring himself to stop.

The music ends and Yuuri feels the chill from the ice around him. He's breathing hard, trying to keep the blood from his nose from dripping onto his costume, but his head feels so clear. Yuuri supposes that instead of screaming, he'll just run headlong into a brick wall next time.

The cheers, while deafening, aren't nearly as loud as Viktor's actions. The older man looks torn between either lecturing Yuuri to death, or just plain strangling him. He finally-

-throws his arms out. _Let me hug you, God damn it,_  his eyes say. Viktor almost makes the gesture look like a threat, but the fact that Viktor didn't huff in disgust and walk away after Yuuri's blatant disregard of his coaching is more than enough to celebrate. And he may be 23 years old, but Yuuri feels no shame in flinging himself into Viktor's arms.

Viktor teases him for his disobedience, and dodges the hug in the end. Yuuri falls flat on his face outside the entrance to the rink. There's only so many times he can hit his head in a day, and the rest of the Kiss and Cry is a blur to Yuuri.

He placed first. He may or may not have cried (tears of joy are okay in public). Viktor's saying a not-very-nice thing with his cute smiling and octopus-hugging, how Yuuri's proven that his program components are strong enough to make up for his terrible jumps today. And if Viktor keeps shaking and nuzzling into him, Yuuri's going to lose both his brains and his blood from his nose.

The younger skaters, all led by Minami, crowd around Yuuri and ask him for autographs and selfies. _Selfies_. The haze in his head is still keeping him from comprehending that he's admired, that this competition was good-natured and positive and even though he's five years older and destroyed everyone else's total score, these teens look up to him.

"I want to face you in the Grand Prix Series someday! So please, until then... don't give up!" 

Yuuri looks over at Viktor, thinks back to Yuuko and his childhood dreams. And he smiles at Minami.

* * *

After the free skate, Minako and Nishigori beeline for him and start fretting over his injury. Yuuri's not too bothered - Phichit has always said that he's the densest material known to mankind.

He is slightly nervous that Viktor is leaving for Hasetsu with Minako and Nishigori, so Yuuri's facing his first large press conference by himself. The conference is in Okayama, he being interviewed along with skaters in other divisions. He's had his entire free skate and the time after to mull over everything. He has no idea the exact words that will come out of his mouth (like always, nothing new), but the feeling inside him is concrete.

And maybe he embarrasses the shit out of himself on national television by yelling, but Yuuri stands by every single word he says. His skating is about love. He's skating for everyone whose been there for him in his life, and he's skating to thank the one who opened his eyes to this.

The trip back to Hasetsu is strange by himself. For one, he knows that he's going home to something and that he's not actually alone. He's spent most of his life before in a haze, and it now feels like he's put on his glasses for the first time.

He finally checks his message thread with Phichit.

 **pchit_chu:**  I SAW YOUR FREE SKATE

 **pchit_chu:**  GLAD UR HEAD IS DENSE AF BC I WOULD HAVE DIED

 **katsudon_y:**  thanks 4 caring ya egg

 **pchit_chu:**  so ur in!!!!!! CHINA CUP HERE WE GO #BJADVENTURE2K16

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  wait OMFFG that is not the hashtag i want

 **katsudon_y:**  omfg i certainly dont want 2b part of any bj adventures wth

 **pchit_chu:**  i miss u i wanna watch kdrama w u again

 **katsudon_y:**  no it sucks watch something else

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  why she gotta get the transplant n die anyways

 **katsudon_y:**  why does her bf have 2 b the one to give transplant

 **katsudon_y:**  its some shit medical system they got

 **pchit_chu:**  its romantic ya ding dong

 **katsudon_y:**  its dumb is what it is

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  boi u just confessed ur love for vf on national television u r dumb as hell

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  STOP FOLLOWING MY SISTERS TWITTER

He gets into the train station late, and Viktor's there waiting. Yuuri freezes. In the moment of his revelation, he neglected to consider the consequences of expressing himself. And while his speech of love wasn't a clear cut romantic declaration, it's obvious that romance is part of the melting pot of feelings that Yuuri has for Viktor. And he immediately flashes back to the memory of Janice, and his stomach sinks.

What if Viktor feels like he did, annoyed and frustrated at the imposition of another's emotions? What right does he have to shove his feelings onto Viktor the way he did?

Yuuri doesn't move for a whole minute after seeing Viktor, and is startled out of his reverie when the other man gently pries Yuuri's suitcase out of his hand.

"Welcome home, Yuuri! Or is it - your sister taught me - okae-oka-okari-"

"おかえりなさい," Yuuri gently corrects. He's bracing himself for Viktor's reaction. Except there isn't one. "And I would say, ただいま first," he continues tentatively.

The streets are peacefully empty. A humid and warm breeze blows through their hair, and Yuuri and Viktor silently walk back to the Yu-topia Katsuki.

"You know," Viktor starts. "I didn't get too much of your speech. My Japanese still isn't very good, even with your family and Minako teaching me. I'll have to find a translation later."

Yuuri stays silent.

"But while I've seen you that impassioned before, I would have never expected it on national television," Viktor continues cheerfully. He turns to look at Yuuri directly. The moonlight makes his blue eyes glow like gemstones. "You're exceptionally beautiful when you're bold, Yuuri."

The moon is bright, the wind is soft, and the road is quiet. Yuuri can't bring himself to scream and disturb the peace. He doesn't know if he actually needs to scream or not.

Viktor then quirks his mouth into a small smile, and nods his head towards the inn and continues walking. Yuuri, as dumbstruck as he is, doesn't hesitate to follow.

* * *

**katsudon_y:** and yea we just walked home after and he went thru my luggage and threw away my tie

 **pchit_chu:**  baby blue is not ur color

 **pchit_chu:**  baby blue is literally 4 babies

 **katsudon_y:**  focus ^ explain what is happening

 **pchit_chu:**  if u add that convo w him flying dick first into ur onsen

 **pchit_chu:**  qed he likes u and he wants 2 bang

 **pchit_chu:**  n b4 u ask yes its possible 2 not like and bang someone

 **katsudon_y:**  but how???? do u even want to bang??? if u dont like??

 **katsudon_y:**  i like him and im not even sure if i want to bang

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  for fucks sake i think i might die everytime i think abt kissing him

 **pchit_chu:**  u wanna tho yea?

 **katsudon_y:**  ... yes

 **katsudon_y:**  ok so i

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  just want to be w him 

 **katsudon_y:**  as long as hes in my life im good and thats what my feelings mean

 **katsudon_y:**  n banging is like what if i cant or what if things change

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  ok its wrong of me 2 keep saying that even as a joke

 **pchit_chu:**  u dont have 2 bang anyone u dont want

 **pchit_chu:**  vf included

 **katsudon_y:**  hes asked me b4 if i wanted him as my bf

 **pchit_chu:**  but IM ur best friend ;)

 **katsudon_y:**  (ง •̀_•́)ง

 **pchit_chu:**  ok ok sorry lmao vf asked if u wanted him as a BOYFRIEND

 **katsudon_y:**  let say i do accept

 **katsudon_y:**  first of all it feels gross like hes playing a role

 **katsudon_y:**  and after hes done with his performance he wins gold and he leaves

 **pchit_chu:**  look i love sakting as much as the next guy

 **pchit_chu:**  but even i dont make everything a skating analogy

 **katsudon_y:**  no but u made a proofs joke which is arguably worse

 **pchit_chu:**  invalidated bc you understood it

 **katsudon_y:**  still a nerd mr early gradumacator

 **pchit_chu:**  stop embarras me OK moving on

 **pchit_chu:**  i see what u mean that within this context its hard 2 read whats happening

 **katsudon_y:**  exactly

 **pchit_chu:**  but u cant also live ur life always anticipating someone elses feeligns b4 ur own

 **katsudon_y:**  if itll keep him from leaving

 **pchit_chu:**  u cant do that 2 urself

 **pchit_chu:**  u already said that he meets u where u r

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  from everything else n the fact that u have a genuine relationship w him now

 **pchit_chu:**  trust him a little n put a foot forward

 **pchit_chu:**  all relationships r like that bc nothing ventured nothing gained

_katsudon_y is typing..._

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  i'lll sleep on it

 **katsudon_y:**  thank u tho

 **pchit_chu:**  no prob rob

 **pchit_chu:**  nite nite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's hype song is Katya Zamolodchikova's verse in Read U Wrote U.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J_9C9paEyzE  
> Forgive me lmao
> 
> And I don't think that K-drama plot is actually real, but I'm pretty sure I took it from an old K-pop MV. Or it might be real? Clearly you can see that I hate K-dramas.
> 
> Did you guys catch the Fukuoka IG picture from the ED? EDIT: I retract my statement bc I'm a blind ass mf and didn't realize Viktor was actually wearing a dress shirt. Oh well, it's not like they can't go to another festival after the GPF
> 
> Now it's time to sleep.
> 
> (Can't update until around Christmas bc work)


	6. Episode 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life is mainly just a bunch of people who each think the other has a perfect idea of what they're doing, but really nobody does.
> 
> That being said, Yuuri doesn't think he ever gives off the illusion that he has any idea what he's doing, where he is, or what's going on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Excuses for long wait time at the end of chapter)
> 
> So, what a wild ride. I started parts of this chapter before Ep 10 and when Ep 10 happened, I thought that I wouldn't be able to do this fic anymore. And that is wrong because: 1) demi doesn't mean you can't be a slutty drunk. I should know. I'm the sluttiest drunk to ever drunk, even before I actually did the do. 2) Phiuuri bromance confirmed to the extreme. I believed, and the show delivered. 3) No one's paying me to continue, but at the same time no one's paying me to stop.
> 
> Also, I keep getting messages about how much Yuuri's development resonates with you guys and I really can't stop this fic now. I'm writing for those out there who need someone to resonate with. Thanks for sticking around, I'll be getting around to everyone's comments soon.
> 
> Also, I was so sleep-deprived last semester that I had no idea why I kept abbreviating Viktor's name as vf. What was I thinking? IDK so I had to be clever and maneuvered it in somehow lmao

"So, I'm curious...," Viktor starts casually as he swirls his udon around in its bowl. The two of them are sitting at Viktor's favorite lunchtime noodle joint - and the thought still causes Yuuri's brain to reset every once in a while: that Viktor Nikiforov has become just Viktor, and just Viktor has been around Hasetsu for months and that he is qualified to have _favorites_  around town. His foot under the table slightly nudges Yuuri's, and Yuuri is hit with the sudden, irritated impulse to retaliate. And he does.

"About...?" Yuuri is very carefully fishing the fried tofu skin out of his bowl and eating it first. He knows that he's just trying to delay whatever morbidly invasive path that Viktor's curiosity will lead them down, and he's not ashamed to admit it to himself. He looks over at Makkachin, panting and lazing about outside the restaurant, and when no divergence about her escapes Viktor, Yuuri tries to look Viktor in the eye and give him his full attention. Viktor's foot returns for round two, except the nudge is more of a foot-grab-with-a-foot. Yuuri's foot pushes back automatically.

"Your program components. We hardly discussed it forthright, correct?"

Yuuri almost lets out a sigh of relief. He feared another vein into his romantically disinclined life (extra mortifying because he already has trouble acting like he doesn't have the biggest crush on his idol-turned-coach), or something else equally embarrassing.

"We haven't. The technical elements have been more pressing," Yuuri confirms.

"I feel that you're the type to really be imagining something while you skate-"

"Kinda? Sure?"

"-So, what do you think about?"

"In general?"

"When you perform 'Eros'?"

Yuuri reflexively punches the shichimi shaker, and it flies in an arc over Viktor's head. The spices sprinkle like fine orange confetti over Viktor's platinum hair. The other man doesn't even blink. One hand is languidly supporting his chin, his eyes are half-lidded but focused on Yuuri, just waiting for his answer patiently. Viktor has learned the best way to navigate around Yuuri's caginess, and Yuuri can't decide whether to be vexed or delighted that Viktor has gotten to know him so well. Either way, Viktor's patience demands his response. His foot starts nudging Yuuri's in a back-and-forth motion, also demanding his attention.

"Uh... It's changed a couple times," Yuuri mumbles. "I... sorta wasn't kidding when I used katsudon as my basis for desire. Hunger is pretty close to sexual desire, I figured." Surprisingly, their feet moving in tandem is keeping him calm.

Viktor pouts, but strangely enough, he schools the expression into vague interest a second later. "But it's changed, right?"

Yuuri's sure that his own expression is a cross between embarrassed and baffled and unnerved, with a healthy dose of blushing. "Y-yes. To add a more human element to it, I, er, asked Minako-sensei to help with learning how to move more femininely."

Viktor's stare is almost uncomfortably piercing at this point. Almost in that Yuuri feels like every part of him is being magnified in front of that stare, but he can't help but want to bare more of himself.

Still, Yuuri presses on. "I imagined the story to be about a playboy coming into town and seducing the most beautiful woman there. She eventually falls for him, only for him to abandon her and move on." His voice is quieter in volume, but the words are more steady.

Viktor leans closer. He is unnervingly interested in the rest of Yuuri's words. Yuuri unconsciously moves towards Viktor, left arm on the table and more of his weight being supported by it.

"I... saw myself as the beautiful woman. Trying to keep the playboy interested in me. Trying to get the playboy to stay-"

A loud thunk! interrupts Yuuri's words, and Yuuri's foot abruptly kicks at empty air. Yuuri leans back, the strange magnetism of the moment gone. Viktor is coughing, apparently choking on his own spit after kneeing the table. He takes a couple gulps of the tea sitting next to his udon, and collapses back onto his chair and slumps down his seat by a few inches. Well, that isn't the best reaction Viktor can have to his interpretation of the choreography. Yuuri wonders if he just finished digging his own grave. "So... bad interpretation? Scrap it? Never perform again? Change my name and leave the country?"

Viktor blearily blinks before his blue eyes focus again on Yuuri's face. He remains in his sprawled position, however. "No, no, none of the above - that story is a really good fit with the program. Even using food at the beginning to get your bearings was good."

Yuuri takes this lack of condemnation as an opportunity to pick up the shichimi shaker that he annihilated moments ago. "Then, are you okay?" he prods, once he's back on his chair. Yuuri likes to think that with Viktor knowing him so well, he knows Viktor well enough in return to warrant honesty when something bothers the other man.

Viktor directs his gaze to the ceiling of the restaurant. "I just had the sudden - definitely unrelated - epiphany that I no longer have any grasp on what's happening."

Yuuri thinks, and finds that he can commiserate. More than ever, since Viktor crashed into his life like a ballistic missile, he definitely understands. "Yeah, that happens to me sometimes, too."

Viktor goes into another coughing fit.

_pchit_chu has sent you 3 messages_

**pchit_chu:** how long r u staying in china

 **pchit_chu:**  lets go siteseeing

 **pchit_chu:**  i'm there from 3-7

 **katsudon_y:**  4-7

 **katsudon_y:** im poor son

 **pchit_chu:**  its time 2 use ur ig 4

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  dont fukcing dare

 **pchit_chu:**  sponsorship

 **katsudon_y:**  ew

 **pchit_chu:**  u cannot b a old man yellin at clouds 5ever

 **katsudon_y:**  i k ik

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  vftor took some photos of me w some of my preferred training gear

 **pchit_chu:**  preferred is an understatement

 **pchit_chu:**  u literally refused to do a single exercise when u ran out of mizuno shirts

 **katsudon_y:**  strong preferences

 **pchit_chu:**  well u didnt post anything yet

 **katsudon_y:**  i feel weird

 **katsudon_y:**  like i dont deserve to hhave some spotlight until i redeem myself u know

_pchit_chu is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  there is no redemption 2 b had

 **pchit_chu:**  u made it to top 6 last year ie top six mens single figure skatereas in the world

 **pchit_chu:**  not gold is still nothing to scoff at

_katsudon_y is typing..._

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**katsudon_y:**  thank nomber1 dude

 **pchit_chu:**  also shape up on ur crush

 **pchit_chu:**  ur not gonna summon him into ur room on accident just bc u actually write out his name correctly

 **pchit_chu:**  here ill break the cycle

 **pchit_chu:**  not vf not viktoforov but VIKTOR NIKIFOROV

 **katsudon_y:**  DO NOT

 **katsudon_y:**  he literally sleeps right next door u cannot tempt fate after all thses yaers

 **pchit_chu:**  dude i am doing u a flavor

 **katsudon_y:**  the only flavor i taste is one of betrayal

 **pchit_chu:**  get this viktor/yuuri train movin

 **pchit_chu:**  and cinch a ... viktuuri if u will

"Yuuri!"

Yuuri most definitely doesn't let out a small squeak. He turns towards the voice beyond his bedroom door. And then he glares back at his phone.

 **katsudon_y:**  is2g u r done i will fckin end u phichit chulanont

 **pchit_chu:**  :^)

"Yuuri! Let's have a pre-competition sleep over! You must be nervous, yes?"

Viktor hasn't attempted another room invasion since the Silent Treatment Incident in May. But now that Yuuri ponders Viktor's behavior more, the two of them have gotten along better and naturally progressed as friends (despite any dumb self-impediment from his feelings). And after Regionals, their interactions changed slightly in that Viktor resumed his slightly enthusiastic skinship and physical closeness from the beginning, if not as overwhelmingly as before. And if he really thinks about it, maybe the foot thing during lunch is a bit ... strange out of context. Like, fever-dream strange. But if he's in a fever-dream, he might as well live it out, right? And all the posters in the room are now gone.

He looks at his desk. And promptly sprints over, and sticks the framed portrait of Viktor behind his desk.

"Fine, you can come in. But no snooping." Yuuri can't help it if his voice comes out slightly strained.

Viktor opens the door, his expression disproportionately ecstatic. It's literally his sad little bedroom from childhood - nothing exciting at all. Makkachin is sitting calmly at his foot, only trotting into the room when her master bounces in.

"I'll get the futon-"

"We're not sharing the bed?" And then Viktor's face droops into a disproportionately tragic pout.

"Viktor, we are both grown men. We cannot possibly fit comfortably on my childhood bed without uncomfortably intimate contortion-"

"-I'm okay with that!"

Yuuri blinks and squints at Viktor. Besides the heart-shaped grin, he actually can't discern the rest of Viktor's expressions too well in the dim of his room.

"Uh," Yuuri looks at Makkachin and begs himself to keep his composure.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it weird," Viktor starts after their moment of stilted silence. "I can sleep on the futon." Yuuri looks up and sees his heart-shaped smile, but the smile is like when Viktor is masquerading sharp words with a nice expression. Except, Yuuri manages to sense that it isn't meanness being disguised this time.

Viktor doesn't seem to have less-than-pure intentions. And it's not like Phichit and he haven't shared a small dorm bed, on nights where homesickness was overwhelming. He's secure enough in his masculinity to admit that platonic bed-sharing is occasionally soothing. Viktor is far from home, and his only close companions present are Makkachin (not human), and Yuuri (human). Yuuri decides.

"Makkachin will have to sleep on the floor. Two of us plus a dog might actually end my bed." Yuuri turns back around and walks towards his bed.

Viktor follows Yuuri almost timidly. Yuuri peels his comforter back, and offers the bed to Viktor.

"I prefer sleeping on the outside," Yuuri states, strangely bold in the pale light mixture of street lamps and moon glow flooding through his window.

"That's fine," Viktor agrees. He then kneels down to Makkachin's height and murmurs to her in Russian. She huffs and circles the ground next to the bed, before laying down on crossed paws and giving a big yawn.

Viktor gets up and gets into the offered spot with little fuss. Yuuri feels his heart beat not fast, but hard. Time seemingly dilates and his room is just a pocket dimension of existence, floating off into space. Viktor is laying on his side, facing Yuuri. His right arm is holding up the comforter. Yuuri can't tell what kind of expression the man before him is making, and maybe it's all for the best. The light on his platinum hair is already heartbreakingly beautiful enough. Yuuri steps over Makkachin carefully, giving her a goodnight pat. And he slides into his cramped bed next to Viktor as the covers fall on top of them.

"You're exhausted. You've been working hard, Yuuri," Viktor's whisper is loud in the quiet of the night, in the closeness of their positions.

"I only hope that I'm reaching your expectations," Yuuri responds. He can say more. He's brave enough for it. "I'm grateful for the time and effort you've given me, Viktor. I couldn't ask for anything more."

"Can't you?" The retort is quiet. Yuuri thinks he imagines it.

Viktor shifts a bit. The man radiates heat, to the point where the gentle breathing near his ear is a secondary sensation. "I'll let you sleep, Yuuri. Good night."

"おやすみなさい, Viktor."

* * *

"It was for your own good."

Yuuri pointedly ignores the heart-shaped smile in front of him. Rule-breakers don't deserve his attention. He said 'no snooping' last night and Yuuri catches the man in his closet the next morning, tearing through his formal wear.

"We can get you a new suit along with the tie you also need, easy-peasy!"

He's already anxious enough. Shopping for formal wear at this critical moment (when he's already leery of shopping) will probably cause his mental state to shatter and tailspin out of control.

"Something low-key, simple... maybe Calvin Klein - we can do an entire suit, and upgrade you to Ralph Lauren when you make it into the Final-"

Yuuri deliberately raises one hand. Viktor stops his spiel and eyes the hand with a mixture of wariness and resentment.

"You wouldn't-"

Yuuri's hand comes down with a fleshy smack onto his plate of peaches. He takes Viktor's wails in stride as he systematically turns his breakfast fruit into pulp.

"Stop, stop - you fruit-brutalizing monster!"

Yuuri doesn't stop. Not until his mother walks in on the scene - his right hand a sweet and disgusting, pulpy mess; left hand singularly holding Viktor back as his coach fruitlessly tries to stop his petty and wanton act of destruction.

"You better finish packing after breakfast, or you'll be fretting this entire week," Hiroko chides her son gently. "Make sure to let Vicchan help you, okay? And I'm glad you threw out that old suit - that was from your high school days!"

Viktor interjects before Yuuri can dumbly nod at his mother's comments because, what? There's something strange in how his mother is treating Viktor, but he can't really figure it out.

"Don't worry, Mamotchka! I'll get him a nice new suit! We'll also clean up after breakfast!" Viktor cheerfully says in accented Japanese.

His mother giggles. "Oh, Vicchan~ thank you!" and she goes along her way.

Viktor turns to beam at Yuuri, who only levels the man with a deadpanned stare.

"You know this means that we have to go up to Fukuoka, come back, and go back up again when we fly out?" Yuuri comments. Now that the petty demon inside him has given up control, Yuuri's left to pick up the pieces (of fruit).

Viktor hands him a napkin, bygones be bygones, and starts to collect their dirty dishes. "I think we'll just run through some technical elements and take it easy for the week. No use in wearing you out before Beijing. So we have plenty of time for a day trip."

Yuuri almost protests, but it isn't quite like the time at Regionals. There is absolute sense in not tiring himself out. But having nothing to do for a week is asking for a spontaneous mental breakdown.

"I'll find some way to keep you occupied outside of light practice," Viktor says playfully, but his smile is only warm and comforting without teasing.

The two of them don't share a bed again, some unspoken agreement between them rises to keep them from mentioning that night. After three days of light practice and conditioning, they go to Fukuoka again. Sightseeing is minimal this time, with shopping being the main purpose; they make time to mess around in various stores, trying to imagine the most ridiculous thing they can gift the troublesome Yuri Plisetsky.

"Leopard-print sneakers."

"He unfortunately already has two pairs. Leopard-print toe socks, with toe beans on the sole!"

"I'll raise you leopard-print tabi shoes."

"That cat bean is huge!"

"We can't possibly do carry-on with it-"

"I was just going to freight it."

"Well, if you're going the extra mile," Yuuri says dryly, "why don't you commission a custom one with leopard-print pattern?"

"Great idea!"

"I was kidding!"

They settle on a small set of cat plushies, each cat a different color. Yuuri picks up a CD that he thinks Yuri might enjoy. The suit and miscellaneous gear shopping becomes an afterthought in between their jokes and the generally enjoyable time that they have. The low-key week they have is something Yuuri needed. He won't deny that his traitor heart beats steady and warm when he makes Viktor laugh, when Viktor makes him laugh. Phichit prods incessantly the whole time but Yuuri is proud to not budge.

_pchit_chu has sent you 21 messages_

**katsudon_y:**  we'll deep talk when we finish coc

 **katsudon_y:**  i might literally implode if u make me think about the thing rn

 **pchit_chu:**  the 'thing' implies that this is exceptionally spicy

 **pchit_chu:**  i am so ready

 **pchit_chu:**  ALSO did i tell u how good u looked

 **pchit_chu:**  i'll tell u again

 **pchit_chu:**  LOOKIN GOOD ON UR IG

_katsudon_y is typing..._

**pchit_chu:**  SPICY BOY IN HIS PREFERRED MIZUNO OUTFIT

 **katsudon_y:**  y do i even talk to u

 **pchit_chu:**  MMMHHMMMM THAT CALVIN KLEIN

 **katsudon_y:**  pls have mercy

 **pchit_chu:**  VIKTOR NIKIFOROV IS SO GOOD TO U

 **katsudon_y:**  is2g stop invoking vfs name on the chat

"Hey, your Mamotchka handed me the rest of your laundry," Viktor calls out from the hallway. "I really like this pair of boxer briefs, so I'll go ahead and pack these for you, okay?"

Yuuri looks helplessly back at the chat on his phone screen. Friendship feels like victimization much too often for his tastes.

* * *

All too soon, Yuuri's family, the Nishigori family, and Minako are making a huge fuss as they leave for Hasetsu Station. Yuuri watches Viktor play with the pliancy of Makkachin's fuzzy face, and his chest warms at the sight of the large poodle. It will be just a few days of separation, but he'll miss napping with her and having her quietly follow along to Vicchan's altar. The pain of Vicchan is almost a faint throb at this point, and Yuuri gives Makkachin a vigorous rub in gratitude. The poodle huffs and eagerly licks whatever exposed skin on Yuuri, her stump-like feet padding on Yuuri's thighs in an insistent rhythm. He then gently nudges her back down, and he straightens his posture to look Minako in the eyes. Before he can muster any sort of words of reassurance or gratitude towards her, Minako gives him a fierce hug and whispers that she'll be right behind them, and that he'll always make everyone proud. Yuuri takes her words and tries to keep them preserved in his head - it is what he's skating for this final season and it won't do to lose sight of that now.

The train to Fukuoka and the flight out to Beijing is uneventful, despite Yuuri's heart pounding from Viktor's unhesitant snuggling on the plane. Yuuri tries to sleep without the aid of champagne unlike Viktor, whose tall stature makes economy seating very uncomfortable. They figure an arrangement with Yuuri plastered against the window, and Viktor plastered against Yuuri. He's pretending that he doesn't feel the furnace heat of giddy affection though the outrageous layers between him and Viktor. He'll let himself like Viktor all that his stupid heart wants, but in no universe would Viktor actually like him back - want to kiss him back. Viktor's oddly sensual and intimate skinship is just a Viktor-thing. Viktor's actions were just the teasing of easy bait.

The flight is over with a long, stiff nap. Viktor is complaining about how his 'delicate frame' will never be the same, but for all of his complaining he spends most of his breath pestering Yuuri and squeezing down his back. "You must be sore, Yuuri - I shouldn't have slept on you like that," Viktor frets. "Let me massage you?"

Yuuri has to continuously brush his coach off, and not let his mind ponder the very forward offer. They have to quickly settle their luggage in the hotel, and barely make it to the latter half of the open practice time at the rink. Of the men's single skaters, only Viktor's former coach and rinkmate were still drilling on the ice. The rest were ice dancers, and two pair skaters that were more fooling around than practicing. Keeping his mind blank is almost too easy in the haze of his remnant jetlag. Yuuri almost stumbles onto the ice with his blade guards still on, but Viktor catches him by his forearm and swings him to sit on the nearby bench in one smooth motion.

"Don't be nervous," Viktor says softly, although it feels more like coaxing. "You're more than capable of being the best, Yuuri."

The tight pulsation of his anxious heart does not waver at Viktor's words. Yuuri feels trepidation in allowing the staring blue eyes catch his gaze, so he forcibly keeps his lids narrowed. Before he can reach to tear off his blade guards (what a dumb mistake, he better not make the same one tomorrow), Viktor's hand catches his forearm mid-motion again. The hand does not move away, not until Yuuri reluctantly blinks and moves his eyes up to meet Viktor's. The hand drag down his forearm, over his own hand, and continues down his shin until Viktor is delicately cradling the top of his skate. Yuuri sees this all in his periphery, because he hasn't stopped staring back at his coach.

The hand lifts off from his skate, and with its index finger, pries off the front end of the blade guard and the other fingers join to pull the plastic fully off. Viktor's eyes are looking at him through his eyelashes, the subtle expression anything but neutral. A shallow parting of his lips follows a second later.

Yuuri's throat tinges from a brief, cold inhale - he started pulling shallow breaths through his own parted mouth without realizing. He discreetly coughs, but that small break in whatever moment between them triggers an intense wave of blushing and he turns away abruptly. It still strikes him as bewildering how brainsick affection makes a person. His chest floods with the heat from his face, all rushing down with the hard, decisive beat of his heart. It almost feels like he's inebriated for a moment, except he's not blessed enough to forget this moment.

Why would he want to forget this moment?

Why would he want to remember this moment?

Another tug on his other foot, and a firm pat on his right outer thigh jolts him out of his head. Viktor is holding both blade guards and giving him a small smile. He stands up from kneeling in front of Yuuri, and steps out of the way. Yuuri braces himself to stand and step onto the ice.

"Specifics?"

"No choreo - just loosen up, and some short drills," Viktor instructs. Despite his fellow Russians present, he makes no move to greet them from across the rink. His focus is soley on Yuuri and his skating. It's a short practice before they step out of the rink and plan their dinner, but the jetlag and nerves get the best of Yuuri and he's caught more off-guard than usual when some reporters and commentators for the event accost him for an interview.

"-do you think you can make a comeback with the 'Power of Love'?"

Yuuri knows that he's the type to dig his own grave. And thus, he is now presented with his freshly made hole, a beautiful mahogany coffin on the side. His dumb mouth ruining his dumb life-

"H-How? Much 'Power of Love' do I have?" He's begging himself to think of any graceful way to change the subject. He's trying not to think about how global his inadvertent love confession was. He's nervously waiting for Phichit to find him, lovingly drop kick him, and give him shit for the rest of his life.

"Yuuuuuuri," Viktor drawls. He shamelessly starts draping himself over Yuuri like some kind of dying water creature. Yuuri gets that half of the behavior is Viktor's lack of self-control once he's tired (he doesn't get too clingy in public when they're not in Hasetsu), and the other half of the behavior is some playful exaggeration - which Yuuri doesn't condemn since the reporters start focusing on Viktor Nikiforov, the five-time GPF gold medalist humanoid starfish, instead of his foolish and exhausted self.

"We haven't eaten all day... let's go have hot pot already!"

Manners were manners, though. Yuuri smiles apologetically at the reporters before turning back to his whimsical coach. "I'm still in the middle of an interview," he lightly scolds. The reporters chuckle at their byplay but graciously wave them off for dinner. Newscaster Morooka takes the time to bow and wish him luck for tomorrow's short skate and Yuuri pretends that he didn't suddenly want to sneak onto the earliest return flight to Japan. Then he realizes that Viktor is gone.

He whips around the hall, trying to spot where his scatter-brained coach wandered off to and catches the tail end of a conversation between Viktor and his former coach. The words are in Russian, but the tone and posture of Yakov are quite clear. Yakov does not agree with Viktor's career change. And from the dismissive glance towards Yuuri himself, Yakov most likely thinks that Yuuri isn't worth it. A big, thorny seed of anxiety plants itself between his lungs and he finds that he has less room to breathe. Yuuri, of all people, knows that Viktor's time and effort is precious. And Yuuri's not worth much of it. He knows that and he's trying his best to show that it's not all for nothing, that Viktor's choice is not flawed, that-

"-Okay!" An arm suddenly hooks around his shoulders, and Yuuri finds himself being spun around and frog-marched out of the rink. "Yakov's not interested in hot pot, so it's just us!"

_pchit_chu has sent you 53 messages_

**pchit_chu:**  buelberris

 **pchit_chu:**  blueberries*

 **katsudon_y:**  heading out 4 dinner now

 **katsudon_y:**  catch up w u later

 **katsudon_y:**  viktor really wants hot pot so we're going to uh

 **pchit_chu:**  address! i need to interrogate this man

 **pchit_chu:**  living legend or not i gotta brotect my nomber1 bro

 **katsudon_y:**  ill see u in the next life

 **katsudon_y:**  maybe reincarnated u will have some chill

 **pchit_chu:**  our chill levels r intertwined so u just burned urself

And that's as much as Yuuri manages to read before he's bombarded by excitable chatter from Viktor. Yuuri can tell the conversation is very intentional, despite the natural flow of it. For his current anxiety level, being distracted by anecdotes is enough to keep him from being trapped in his head.

"So we just sat there, and drank the broth and ate the raw meat separately, which was quite delicious if not strange. Then, my friend gets the idea... 'Viktor, what if we... put the meat in the broth?'" Viktor imitates.

Yuuri huffs. "So it took the two of you... 20 minutes to figure out how hot pot actually worked?"

Viktor shrugs and grins. "We got it in the end, and the wait staff felt so sorry for us that we got an extra dessert!"

"I don't have much funny restaurant stories - mostly just cooking misadventures with Phichit," Yuuri muses. "We tried making bread from scratch once, and ended up with plastic-like muffins."

Viktor laughs (and goddamnit for being such a nice laugh) and he makes a big show of escorting Yuuri through the doors of the hot pot restaurant. They are guided to a booth and Viktor immediately grabs a menu and peruses it enthusiastically.

"What do you want to try, Yuuri? Shanghai crab? Drunken shrimp? Ooo, they have duck blood - I know it sounds weird but it's really good!"

"You can order whatever you want; I'll get something not as... adventurous," Yuuri answers. He can't have anything too wild before a competition - it's mainly some plain carbs, some protein, and tons of fruit and maybe some vegetables (he's getting quite sick of broccoli these past few months). "I definitely want a plate of stir-fry garlic snow pea leaves."

"Okay, I'll get an order of plain beef for you, too. Broth, though - spicy or not spicy? Or half-half?"

Yuuri leaves the ordering to Viktor, and lets his mind wander and his eyes take in the restaurant. The volume is louder than he's used to, but the booths make the setting more intimate and not as agoraphobia-inducing as Yuuri had expected. Big restaurants for big groups tend to make him cagey. When a bottle of alcohol makes its way to their table, Yuuri feels a twinge of envy at Viktor drinking away as he nurses his tea. He's in public and it's the night before his short program, so it's not like he should be drinking anyways. But he's tempted to ingest some liquid courage.

"C'mon, you should at least try some of the shrimp, Yuuri! It's amazing!" Viktor seems to really enjoy the hot pot atmosphere, because he's all over the place with cooking food, picking out meat and vegetables for Yuuri, and ordering more food and alcohol.

"This is the kind of raw seafood I cannot stomach before a competition."

"But... you cook it in the pot. It is cooked."

"Still-"

"Okay, well at least your beef is done. Here, give me your plate," Viktor expertly picks out all of the beef from the pot and serves it to Yuuri. "Growing boy you are - need to make sure you're nourished and ready to win!"

Yuuri just gives Viktor a long-suffering stare and Viktor returns his heart-shaped grin, business as usual. Yuuri lets out a tiny sigh and concentrates on his food instead. His mind now jumps back to the interrupted interview from earlier, and the press conference that prompted the reporters' line of questioning. He just knew his mouth is a piece of shit and now he's damned to win, and damned if he loses.

"-Yuuri?"

The familiar voice jars him out of his negative thoughts. He feels his chest ache and a fierce grin forces its way onto his face. "Phichit!"

Phichit is grinning at Yuuri, waving his phone screen at him teasingly. Viktor's Instagram is on the screen, the latest photo a geotagged picture of their hot pot spread. "Found you," he chimes.

Viktor gives a muffled 'Hi!' through his shrimp-stuffed mouth and Phichit waves back.

"Talk about coincidence! I was thinking hot pot, too - and I see you have some spicy broth," Phichit says, tilting his head to look at their table properly. His eyebrows waggle at Yuuri.

"We're on an entirely different continent and you still find a way to steal food from me," Yuuri retorts in a deadpanned tone. Despite this, his hands automatically set a plate and a pair of chopsticks opposite of him at the table, and Viktor shoves his own food-laden plate across the table to sit next to Yuuri.

Phichit sticks a tongue out in response and he holds out a fist for Yuuri to bump. Yuuri completes the gesture and Phichit perks up before sitting down.

"Oh! Can I invite Ciao Ciao?"

"What."

"He misses you, you know. And you want to see him too, don't you?"

"Awkward. So awkward. Please don't-" Yuuri's eyes land on Viktor, because the man thrives on surprising others, right? Maybe he can surprise Yuuri right now, with some way to extract him from this impending awkward reunion.

"-Texted and done! Your fate is sealed," Phichit chirps and slides into the booth. He removes his snapback and face mask. "But really though, Yuuri - you are a grown man and you need to talk to your former coach like an adult. An un-awkward adult."

"Rude," Yuuri swats the piece of meat in Phichit's chopsticks out of their hold and the two commence a petty chopstick battle of epic proportions. After Phichit accidentally touches the rim of the pot and yelps, the two settle down. Yuuri pours Phichit some tea, his behavior the epitome of composure, and introduces his best friend to his coach.

"So, this is Phichit Chulanont. We were rinkmates back in Detroit, and you found all my ugly Instagram pics through his account. Phichit, this is living legend Viktor Nikiforov. He, too, is contributing to the Internet's hoard of unflattering media of me."

Viktor sticks his hand across the table and Phichit returns a hearty hand shake. But then, Phichit's face morphs into a very serious mien. Viktor sets his chopsticks down and sits up completely, entirely focused on Phichit. Yuuri finds himself completely lost.

"Viktor Nikiforov." Viktor nods at Phichit's address. "Living legend in figure skating you may be, but that means nothing if you're not treating my boy right." Phichit leans on one elbow, face coming forward in a predatory manner. "Are you treating my precious friend, my wonderful brother from another mother and father, my number one dude the way he deserves?"

"Phichit Chulanont," Viktor starts, "I treasure the time I spend with Yuuri very much. We have cultivated a wonderful working relationship, both professional and personal."

"State your evidence," Phichit demands. Yuuri can't actually process what he's witnessing.

"I capture his best angles in photos daily. I keep him working hard, eating right, and make him rest at night. I made sure to toss his ugly tie and old suit away, and dressed him as he deserves. Makkachin and I keep him entertained and happy. We go on excursions together. I help his mother with the dishes and his father with the tall shelves in the storeroom. His sister tolerates me and has granted me a singular cigarette, although I declined."

Phichit sits back, and quietly mulls over Viktor's words. "I see, I see. These are compelling statements. I will bare witness to tonight, and give you my final judgment before we leave."

"Thank you," Viktor says sincerely. They shake hands again.

"If you're intending to marry me off, you don't really have the authority to do so," Yuuri sighs at Phichit's antics. He can't believe that Viktor is playing along with Phichit's routine (the more he thinks about it, Viktor and Phichit would get along like hairspray and a lighter) but he's going to pretend that he's surrounded by normal people with normal behaviors that interact normally.

"You have been posting a lot of pictures of Yuuri recently, but that can't be all your pictures of him," Phichit drawls. "Let me inspect the goods and I'll show you my cache."

Viktor eagerly takes out his phone and opens an album. "We'll start with the beginning of summer because that's when Yuuri actually started being okay with me taking his photos-"

Yuuri tunes out the two of them and while he's glad that they're getting along, it's better for his peace of mind to ignore them. Ignore them forever.

He's digging through his plate of snow pea leaves when he hears a hearty "Ciao ciao!" and sees Celestino waving cheerily in front of their booth. Phichit scoots aside for his coach to slide in, and immediately Viktor bombards Celestino with different food options. Yuuri feels slightly sorry for the man, who looks so overwhelmed in face of an enthusiastic Russian trying to force-feed him, but anything that distracts him from having to talk to Celestino directly is welcome at the moment. He has no hard feelings towards his former coach, but Yuuri knows that they didn't part with him in his best mental state, and the situation of almost retiring only to storm back into the figure skating world with a new coach makes Yuuri feel like he's shafted Celestino somehow. The older man has only tried his best with Yuuri, always supporting and never pushing him to the point of fracture. His anxiety just proved too powerful for Celestino to help him overcome.

"So, Yuuri, has Viktor been treating you right?" Oh god, not another interrogation. Before Celestino can start on Viktor, Phichit interrupts cheerfully.

"It's okay, Coach - I've given him the 'treatment' already. He's good," Phichit says before turning his attention back to showing Viktor unflattering pictures of Yuuri napping.

Celestino huffs, but smiles at Yuuri. "Well Yuuri, if he's been good to you, and you're happy-" he looks pointedly at Yuuri, and Yuuri nods almost shyly, "-then there's nothing wrong and I hope the best for you, competition or not. I look forward to your programs this season; I haven't had the time to watch your Regionals because Phichit is such a handful."

Yuuri smiles back. The remnant tension that he felt over Celestino fully dissipates. While he wants to throttle Phichit the moment he does 'a thing', he always knows that Phichit has his best interests at heart. Mostly. He's still ignoring the photo-sharing session between him and Viktor.

But the night progresses strangely after that. Viktor discovers that Celestino is the type to be easily goaded into drinking more than he can handle, and the two proceed to loudly talk about 'coach things' while knocking back glass after glass of wine. Phichit smirks at the bottle and raises an eyebrow at Yuuri, who knows exactly what his friend is thinking. No, never, not in a million years will he ever get drunk in public and in front of his former coach and current coach. He knows that Drunk Yuuri is a beast best locked in the confines of frat parties and private outings. He frowns at Phichit.

Phichit pouts.

And Yuuri starts to get nervous because the wait staff start eying their booth with mild displeasure. "Maybe an apology and some diplomacy is in order...?"

Phichit's hands are already on his phone before Yuuri can ask for suggestions. "I'll text Leo to bring Guanghong over; I only have Leo's number but they've been a package deal since this year's Skate America - house on fire status."

Yuuri laughs. He's had a couple of competitions with Leo de la Iglesia and Guanghong Ji since they debuted in the senior division and they didn't make for bad company. Yuuri's lack of social media presence is the only thing holding them back from being closer friends. When the duo arrive at the restaurant and stand in front of their booth with wide, disbelieving eyes, Yuuri greets them warmly as Phichit distracts himself by snapping pictures of Celestino drooling on the table and Viktor drunk babbling and draping himself all over Yuuri.

"Hey Leo, Guanghong," he waves, "Long time no see."

Leo has more composure than Guanghong and greets him back, but Guanghong stammers and points at the flopping creature behind Yuuri.

"Ah, yes... sorry - Viktor's had way too much to drink," Yuuri explains. He's dealt enough with drunk Viktor and hungover Viktor in the past months that he knows that the man is benign enough. Yuuri just patiently holds Viktor's body at bay with one arm. "Actually, that's why Phichit asked for you two - Guanghong, can you help us apologize nicely to the wait staff?"

Guanghong does not respond. Instead, his eyes are getting wider by the second. "Um. Yuuri-"

Yuuri has no time to turn around before a warm slur of words pour over his shoulder. "Let's... aaall go to a hot spriiiing," Viktor says. Okay, that's fine. Wait, Viktor's missing his shirt. No-kay. This never happens. Viktor tends to get overly affectionate and clingy, but he's not a stripping drunk.

Yuuri glances over at Phichit, who's yelling encouragement at Celestino but doing absolutely nothing to help the poor man. Snap! and another drooling picture of the Italian coach. Yuuri's on his own.

Viktor's chest is practically scalding to the touch, but Yuuri's hand stay steady in holding him back from wrapping around Yuuri like an octopus. His other hand is groping around under the table for the Missing Shirt. "Viktor, please-"

"Hot... springs.... Hasetsu! Hasetsu hot springs, a wonderful place..." And he moves away from Yuuri, which is a blessing. But their shared bench starts to shake back and forth, and Yuuri forces himself to look over at Viktor to see what shenanigans he's trying to accomplish.

"What are you doing- Hey! Don't strip!" His worst nightmare is in progress. Viktor wriggles out of his slim black slacks, shaking their bench vigorously. And Yuuri's brain suddenly short-circuits.

Why on Earth is the sight of Viktor stripping out of his pants more mind-blowing than seeing the man naked on the daily? He literally sees his coach's dick every day back in Hasetsu. Yet the slight arch of his back when he shucks off his slacks is more arresting than dick. He freaks out at dick. But pants sliding down those strong, long legs-

And then Yuuri's brain goes through nuclear warfare and heads towards a nuclear winter because Viktor Nikiforov. Wears the _tiniest_  pair of black briefs in all of creation. The dark fabric stands stark against the smooth, pale skin and the sharp hip bones holding the garment taut. Mr. Dick is there but that is forbidden territory so Yuuri will look higher to figure out some way to instantaneously dress the man again. But the back of his throat burns at the sight of Viktor's neat happy trail, teasing the edge of those briefs. His brain is in the process of rebooting, which is why he's too fucking slow to stop the long, pale fingers that slide under the band of the black briefs and rip off the final shred of decency left in this restaurant. He looks up, towards Leo and Guanghong. Viktor's slacks are hanging off of Leo's head and Guanghong has been crowned with those tiny black briefs.

He twitches when he remembers that they are 19 and 17 years old, respectively. And looks up to beg the heavens for forgiveness.

"Yuuuuuuuri, where are the hot springs?" Viktor's back to hanging off of him, and he's looking up at Yuuri with so much intent that Yuuri feels himself fever-sweat. But he has goals to accomplish, and no spontaneous brain-sickness will stop him: namely, get Viktor Nikiforov dressed, pay their bill, and save the reputation of men's figure skating from being destroyed by overly-attractive naked Russians.

He pleads Guanghong and Leo to toss Viktor's clothes back into the booth and they probably sense the broken desperation in Yuuri's voice, because the two do so and Guanghong rushes off to apologize to the establishment and Leo tries to block off the view of naked Viktor squirming around in the booth. Yuuri thanks every god out there that Viktor prefers being next to a wall - damage control would be impossible if he was next to the aisle. He fights through Viktor's whining and dresses the man again. Thankfully, Viktor was sitting on his shirt the entire time.

"Shoes, too," Yuuri says firmly. Viktor grumbles like a tiny child but jams his feet back into his loafers.

The manager follows Guanghong's return, and he reluctantly accepts their apology along with Viktor's lovely black credit card. He does give the strong suggestion that they all leave immediately, world renowned figure skaters or not. Yuuri leaves a hefty tip, despite the service charge already included. He coaxes Viktor into signing the receipt and they all shuffle out of the restaurant.

"Hey, will you guys be okay?" Yuuri asks. The Celestino-to-Phichit ratio is much larger than the Viktor-to-Yuuri ratio. Also, Viktor is still conscious, albeit a detriment to his own movement. Phichit has his coach slung over his shoulder, with Leo and Guanghong supporting on the side.

"Yeah, it'll be fine, Yuuri." Phichit nods in thanks to Guanghong, who hailed two taxis. "Leo and Guanghong will help me since we're all staying on the same floor, and we'll just chill so you can get your rest."

What? Phichit always bothered Yuuri until they were forced to go to sleep before a competition. He thought Phichit was going to suggest that he lay Viktor to rest and then come party it up.

Phichit notices Yuuri's inner turmoil. "Hey," he calls out as they're getting into their separate cabs. "Make sure to take good care of Viktor," he yells, but Yuuri doesn't like the tone his friend is taking. His paranoia is confirmed when Phichit gives him an exaggerated wink.

"Yuuri aaaaaaalways takes care of me," Viktor slurs from inside the taxi and Yuuri hastily flips Phichit off before ducking in next to Viktor. Immediately, Viktor is all over him like a heavy blanket. And Yuuri is relived that Viktor has resumed his normal drunk behavior. Viktor is usually giggly, touchy, and playful. Stripping never happens. Granted, he doesn't have that many samples of drunk Viktor, and most of his data has been collected prior to Regionals so he can't call it a well-sampled observable metric-

"...Yuuri?"

Oh, he's been petting Viktor's hair for the past few minutes. "Yes, Viktor?"

"You... make me feel- feel brave." What.

"Okay?"

"I-" Viktor rolls around a bit, trying to fit in perfectly in Yuuri's lap, "-I wanted to match you."

"Uh huh." Match how?

"Your boldness. You're so very bold."

"Aaaand you're crazy." Yuuri doesn't stop petting Viktor's head, but he sighs. The only bold that he feels is the audacity of walking into the Grand Prix Series, after stealing Viktor from the figure skating world. The audacity of wearing Viktor's Junior World Champion costume and making it into his own. The audacity of announcing his thrice-damned feelings to the entire world. Yuuri knee-jerks as he cringes bodily in the backseat, and Viktor wiggles in protest and babbles incoherently.

He's already estimated the amount of fare required to get back to their hotel, and Yuuri hands the neatly folded bills to the driver and waves off the change. His hands are full with dragging Viktor out of the car and hoisting the man against his side. It's so very apparent how much bigger Viktor is compared to Yuuri - he vaguely keeps in mind that he fits into a costume made for the other man when he was 16 and he's 23, but Yuuri feels like he's lugging a ragdoll twice his size when the entirety of Viktor becomes dead weight.

"C'mon, Viktor; I know you can still walk," Yuuri gently coaxes while he stands Viktor up in the hotel elevator. The Russian man sways a bit, but keeps upright and blinks blearily at Yuuri. And then his mouth splits into that adorable heart-form grin.

"Yuuri!"

"Yes, me," Yuuri sighs. "Don't you usually drink more than this? Your tolerance is a bit lower today... or you're playing me in revenge for the fruit." He reaches up to brush Viktor's fringe away from the man's mouth. His head lolls around and his hair flops down again.

"Viktor, here you go - let's walk back to the room." Viktor takes that as a cue to lean his entire weight against Yuuri. And if not for his figure skating legs, the entirety of Viktor Nikiforov would have collapsed him like a house of cards. "Viktor, please; walk for me?" He's begging.

But that seems to do the trick and Viktor staggers to full height and, blessedly, off Yuuri. "O-okay! 1203, 1203, ... 1204?" He drunkenly marches down the hall.

"The first one was right," Yuuri calls out after him. He catches up in a hurry as Viktor is trying to brute force the card key.

"Okay, you hot mess, I got you," Yuuri gently pries the card out of Viktor's grip and unlocks the door. He has one arm pushing the door open and the other arm is refusing to let Viktor just collapse into the dark room despite his coach's clear desire to do so.

The hour is late, and the exhaustion of the day lets him clinically undress Viktor and shove the man into proper sleepwear. He makes Viktor stay in the bathroom until a cursory attempt to brush his teeth is made, and then guides him to his double bed.

"Yuuri, Yuuri please don't go," Viktor whines. He's fighting the covers and gripping at Yuuri's forearms. His sleep pants are already half off and the shirt tossed to some corner of the room.

Yuuri, having the sober advantage, deftly wraps Viktor up in a blanket burrito and prevents him from stripping further or pulling at him. "You stay there and don't come out until you learn to be decent in public."

"But I'm good," Viktor's pout is the only thing visible now that his hair is a mop all over his face and the rest of his body is bundled up.

"You're the worst," Yuuri retorts half-heartedly.

"But I'm your favorite, though, right?"

The gods hate him daily. "... yes you are."

With that little confirmation, Viktor's mouth smooths out into a peaceful smile and he settles into his little burrito. Yuuri, taking pity on the man, brushes his bangs from his face yet again. Viktor's eyelashes create a cascade of shadows on his cheeks, and the soft expression on his face as he sleeps is positively angelic. Yuuri pulls his hand back abruptly. He can't afford to let himself get carried away, wrapped up in the strange atmosphere created tonight. He may be a little in love with Viktor, but it doesn't mean that Viktor likes him that way. He can be confusing with his flirting and sensuality, but it can't mean anything. Yuuri can't bring himself to think it.

* * *

Yuuri greets the morning with a groggy glare. Viktor is already up, the remnants of last night's drinking already washed away and he flutters about their hotel room with a chipper smile and shitty hotel coffee in hand. Yuuri wants to destroy him.

"Up, up, my sleeping beauty!" Yuuri worms his way out of his comforter and slides onto the floor. Viktor doesn't interrupt him at all - he's watching the morning routine in quiet fascination.

Yuuri pushes across the rug with his legs against the bed before slowly getting up on all fours and crawling weakly towards the bathroom. Halfway to the door, he manages to get upright and grab his clothes. After washing the sleep from his eyes, brushing his teeth, and shaving that one sad hair that dared to call itself his facial hair, Yuuri puts on his clothes for the day. Boxer briefs off, dance belt on. Eros costume over that. Track pants and his jacket on top. Socks and shoes outside. He steps out of the bathroom and Viktor immediately pushes the cup of coffee into his hands. The older man runs off into the bathroom and returns with some pomade and a comb, and a small makeup bag. As Yuuri drinks his coffee, Viktor softly cards through his hair and spreads the pomade on the strands. After careful styling and Yuuri finishing the cup of coffee, Viktor holds his hand out for the empty cup and Yuuri hands it to him mechanically.

The static in his head gets louder as Viktor gently pats foundation on his face and rubs other powders on his cheek and nose. He closes his eyes and there is gentle tugging on his eyelids. Viktor finishes with an application of his excessively expensive lip balm.

"Ready, Yuuri?" The man says, stepping back and holding a hand out. Yuuri grabs it and lets Viktor pull him up off the bed.

The journey to the rink is quiet, even though the actual volume from the streets of Beijing get louder and louder as they near their destination. Once inside the rink, Viktor is quick to guide them to pick up their badges and once they spot Phichit, Leo, and Guanghong arguing animatedly about something, Viktor pushes Yuuri towards them and takes his water bottle to refill it.

Yuuri stalks closer and hears the tail end of Leo berating Phichit.

"-after we showed all that restraint and didn't post anything!"

"Yeah, how could you, Phichit!"

Yuuri almost doesn't want to ask. He chooses not to, but Leo sees him and thrusts Phichit's phone towards Yuuri.

He.

Oh no.

At the forefront of the Instagram photo, it's Phichit coyly eying the camera and covering his mouth.

In the background, is Yuuri and Viktor. Viktor naked, and draped on top of a disheveled Yuuri.

"'Wow!!, #phichit, #beijing, #yuurikatsuki, #viktornikiforov...," Yuuri drops the phone. "Phichit!" Phichit dives to catch it.

Victimization and betrayal, and 3,180 likes: a summary of friendship. Now all of China's going to think he spent the last night fucking around and if he fails, he'll really be fucked.

"I was going to give you konpeito, but I don't think you deserve it anymore."

"But no take-backsies!" Phichit spends all of three seconds pouting. "Hey, since you've stopped hiding your Instagram, I can tag you with both your name and account now, right?"

"My life is over, so you can do whatever you want-" And he's suddenly subjected to a brand new sensation and he can't help squeaking in response.

A husky voice practically purrs into his ear and he feels a warm body sidling up behind him. "Yuuri, I'm inconsolable," and Yuuri turns to see Christophe Giacometti pouting out of the corner of his eye. "You didn't invite me out on your little excursion - very wild."

The hand squeezing his butt gives a little extra effort. "H-hi Chris," Yuuri says bashfully. "How've you been?" And Yuuri likes Chris, he really does - they competed on and off in the junior division, and Christophe Giacometti gave him an air-kiss when he made it into the Grand Prix Final for the first time last year. But the customary butt pat was never a butt squeeze. And he never would think that Chris and he are close enough to go out on 'little excursions'.

"Quite shapely now - guess your new master's giving you very thorough training," and it's really not Chris's fault that everything just comes out... a bit wrong whenever he talks. He's really a nice guy. Yuuri smiles nervously in return, and Chris's teasing grin is gentle warmth after that. But Yuuri politely but firmly removes himself from grabbing and caressing range.

And he immediately backs up into Viktor, who gives Chris a sharp look and a sharp smile.

"Chris!" And Yuuri swears that it's almost red carpet-worthy when Viktor and Chris step close to each other. "How's it going?"

Chris purses his lips and complains. "I'm just not motivated without you," he says, picking at the ID card hanging off Viktor's neck and smirking at the 'Coach' label.

"You're always like that at the start of the season," Viktor retorts back teasingly. The byplay between the two is almost heated, almost sensual. Yuuri feels the overwhelming glamor of the two: both tall and model-like, one like pale porcelain and the other like golden honey. Viktor with his trademark platinum hair effortlessly framing his face, and ice blue eyes sharp through frosted eyelashes. Chris and his golden curls and casually handsome facial hair, marble-like hazel eyes and doll-like eyelashes.

Any thought ever entertaining the idea of Viktor flirting with him vaporizes.

"Viktor!"

And Chris's coach joins the scene, cajoling Viktor to get back on ice. Yuuri can taste metal when two Russian girls start heckling Viktor, as well.

"Are you really a coach, now?"

"Just split up with him already!"

Iron mixes with a hint of bile at the back of his tongue.

"Yuuri," Chris smirks, "the sin of keeping Viktor to yourself is grave indeed." He gives Yuuri a pat on the shoulder and a wink, and he saunters away.

Viktor, in the distance. Viktor, smiling and talking to all who've missed him.

The girls giggle and Yuuri wants to rip his ears off and stop breathing. He can't look over at Viktor. He can't look after Chris. He can't even look at the worried faces of Phichit, Leo, and Guanghong, with Phichit trying to get his attention.

Yuuri knows that he's done the world wrong. But this is the way it played out: Viktor came to him. He knows it better than anyone that he, by some miracle, managed to snatch Viktor from this world. There are worthier people than him. But this is what _is_ , now.

He's extra quiet when Viktor finally breaks from everyone and the announcers are calling for the start of the event. Viktor guiding him to the changing room, neatly folding his track pants after Yuuri absently shucks them off, leading him towards the rink, pulling his blade guards off, and holding his backpack and giving him a gentle pat on the back before he warms up - these are all background noises to the humid fog in his head. He took Viktor away. _No one thinks he deserves Viktor._   _He took Viktor away._

He manages to finish the six-minute warmup without eating the ice once, despite his thoughts weighing him down. Viktor looks at him with worry as he slips on his blade guards again, but Yuuri doesn't look his coach in the eye. He pulls the water bottle from Viktor's gloved hand and drinks while he walks over to the waiting area to look at Phichit's Short Program before stretching.

"Now, Group 1 in the Men's Single Short Program is about to take to the ice. First up is Phichit Chulanont from Thailand, age 20. After placing 4th in Skate America, the first Grand Prix Series event, Chulanont will need to place second or higher here to qualify for the finals."

Yuuri thinks back to the past three years. He thinks of the two of them messing around on the rink; of them learning jumps together through sheer, bull-headed determination; of outlandish dance lessons at the gym, on the streets, in nightclubs; selfies, frozen blueberries, and shitty pop music to hype up before a competition; their small dorm apartment with the blackened ceiling above the stove. He's so proud of Phichit for coming this far, the emotion causing a real and visceral reaction to his chest.

"The music is 'Shall We Skate?' from _The King and the Skater_. The audience is already clapping to the familiar theme! _The King and the Skater_  was the first movie he saw, and it's had a big influence on him."

A small laugh escapes Yuuri. He knows that Phichit's biggest fantasy was to skate to _The King and the Skater_  on an international stage. And given this opportunity, Yuuri knows that Phichit won't put forth anything less than his entire being into this season. He is mesmerized by his friend's skating, the energy and passion that others usually lacked when skating to this song. The song itself was weighty, with most skaters letting the music do the heavy-lifting. But Yuuri can see that even with that flubbed quad toe loop, Phichit had made the song entirely his own from the performance.

"An amazing performance from Phichit Chulanont!"

And a personal best, at 86.75. With the conclusion of Phichit's short program, Yuuri has mustered all the mental strength that he has for watching people perform before him. But when he thinks about it, he hates going first and watching people perform after him. So is the best thing to just... not perform? Or just be locked in a box until it's his turn and be released onto the ice, and then locked back up like some kind of figure skating gremlin?

The announcers call for Guanghong to take to the ice, and Yuuri turns his attention back to stretching. At the cheers and the lull in noise before the music starts, he jolts up from the floor. He can't sit. He can't stretch. His head is eating him up, the words held at bay by Phichit's performance swirl back into his mind.

He took Viktor away from figure skating. No one thinks him worthy of Viktor. Everyone resents him for taking Viktor away to coach some mediocre nobody from some fading town in Japan.

Yuuri stalks towards the partition leading into the rink. Viktor and Chris are chatting on the side as Chris stretches, but Yuuri pays them no attention. 

He has to skate his best because one, he's already dug a neat little grave with his press conference. Two, he'll look like the world's biggest tool if he fucks up now after Phichit's Instagram photo makes it look like they spent the night debauching away instead of approaching the competition with propriety. Three, he can't make Viktor look like a fool. He already looks like one. He can't bear for Viktor to fall down with him. Damned to win, damned if he loses.

Viktor and Chris pass by his periphery multiple times, almost in smooth repetition. 

But he thinks about Phichit's fierce grin just moments ago. Thinks back to that same grin, but determined, years ago. Phichit skated how he wanted, and here he is. Not beholden to anyone or anything. And Yuuri realizes that he can't please those who want Viktor instead. Who he is now, and who he was before - neither of those people will satisfy the amalgamate entity that are the masses who demand Viktor back on ice. And why should he try to please them, please it? _Fuck them. Fuck it._ He can't give back what he didn't take. Because Viktor's the one who showed up, dick out, at his family onsen. He didn't skate that video for Viktor. _Viktor's a grown man who can make his own damn decisions._  And if they keep blaming him for stealing Viktor away, then-

He will march out onto that ice and show them the man who took Viktor away from the entire world. And they can just suck it.

The heady rush of that resolution feels like intoxication. Yuuri barely hears his name being called out by the entranceway, and Viktor quickly joins his side quietly. Just as well, Yuuri doesn't know whether to start screaming or fighting or jumping or whatever with the energy inside him.

Viktor touches up his lip balm once more while Yuuri pulls off his blade guards. He hands them over without hesitation to Viktor.

His head pulses with his chest. His heartbeat feels overwhelming, but the most steady support he has presently. He steps onto the ice, and swings around to finally look at Viktor directly. Viktor's smile is just a slight curl, like he's mildly entertained by some thought. He reaches out to gently cup Yuuri's clenched fist on the partition. His eyes are indulgently warm, suit sharp and model-perfect, but Yuuri doesn't find it flustering. It instead bolsters that strange, fierce determination within him. Viktor chuckles at the tension he feels through Yuuri's fist, stroking it with his gloved index finger.

"The time to seduce me by picturing pork cutlet bowls and women during your skate is over. You can fight with your own personal charm, Yuuri," and those playful murmurs make him think of moonlight glow and a warm bed and confusion confusion confusion- "You can envision it just fine, can't you?"

And Yuuri can't have Viktor playing games. If he wants to play like Yuuri's stolen him from the world, then he better sit his sculpted Russian ass down and shut the fuck up. Yuuri roughly laces their fingers together and reels Viktor in towards him. Their heads bump and Yuuri wishes he can capture that sharp noise of surprise Viktor makes (how the tables have turned, after months of being pulled this way and that by beautiful Viktor Nikiforov).

He almost doesn't recognize his own voice. He sounds ready to devour Viktor. "Don't you _ever_  take your eyes off me." And with that, he skates off towards the starting position.

Quiet. The music starts, and Yuuri lets his tongue swipe languidly at his lips before he brings his arms around and whips his head to the left. Cocks his chin up, smirks. His brain roars, the exhilarating feeling flooding through his entire body and he feels ready to take on the world. He lets his body flow into the step sequence, the confidence within him normally reserved for anonymity while clubbing or inebriation while with friends. He has it within himself to be smooth, maybe even sensual - and the cocktail of atmosphere and emotion is the correct mixture to let him connect with himself. And while it's definitely not anything the world has seen before, Yuuri knows that the eyes are on him now (Viktor's, most importantly) and he's going to make them want to learn the new him.

The triple axel that follows after his spread eagle is rote. His blood crashes through his body like a storm when he lands solidly, gliding towards his quad Salchow. And suddenly, it's almost laughably easy. He takes off and lands impeccably.

Even if everyone else thinks that he's not worth Viktor's time, Viktor thinks he's worth Viktor's time. And with that, Yuuri is the only one who can satisfy Viktor, is the only one in the entire world that knows Viktor's devotion and love. And his skating will prove it. The quad triple toe loop combination feel like the punctuation at the end of his declarative statement: Viktor Nikiforov belongs to Yuuri Katsuki.

He ends with a flourish, hands on an invisible lover. Hands on a placeholder for Viktor, the one he has stolen away. And the breath leaves his body and comes back in new, that strange boldness slowly draining out and leaving him dazedly waving at the audience. The cheers from the crowd are an auditory tidal wave, and he almost skates the wrong direction before turning around and grabbing a few sushi plushies and an oddly deflated poodle plushie.

Oh. Viktor threw his Makkachin tissue holder. Yuuri has to return it.

Viktor stumbles into the Kiss and Cry moments after Yuuri sits down on the bench. His grin is the widest he's ever seen, hair all mussed like he sprinted over from across the entire rink. Yuuri gives a tentative smile and Viktor bounces over, happily taking the Makkachin cover and fitting it over the tissue box. The camera aims at them as the judges deliberate and Viktor enthusiastically makes the shittiest heart with his hands that Yuuri has ever witnessed.

"Like this, Viktor," Yuuri demonstrates. The cameraman calls him to look over at the camera and Yuuri shyly raises the heart he makes at the lens.

Viktor leans in, side touching his side, and brushes his flyaway bangs back. "Yuuri, did that performance feel as good as it looked?"

"Uh." He believes so. "I hope everyone else felt just as good watching me."

And he's going senile as well as blind because that can't possibly be his score. A fucking triple digit score for the short program. A personal best. 106.84. What the actual fuck. He's trying to lean in and he's squinting for dear life, hoping that he's not tricking himself. But Viktor makes it impossible, with his thrashing and clapping and octopus-hugging and nuzzling his head.

"Of course they'd feel great watching a performance like that. You're the best student," he croons into Yuuri's ear.

He gives Yuuri one final hug before the two get up from the bench and make their way to the viewing room. Yuuri changes out of his skates and Viktor pushes him back onto his seat before he can reach for his sneakers.

"Let me," Viktor says and he kneels on the ground in front of Yuuri's legs. Yuuri can't recount exactly how many times this has happened over the past month, but it's definitely more than once. And quickly becoming a common occurrence.

He raises his left foot slightly, and Viktor slides on his sneaker as smoothly as he can. He places the foot onto his knee and Yuuri tries to jerk back (because he can't just leave a dirty shoe print on Viktor's slacks) but Viktor's hold on his heel is firm. So Yuuri reluctantly steps on Viktor's knee while he carefully, attentively tightens the laces and knots the ends. And he places the left foot back on the ground and pulls up the right foot to give the exact same treatment. Like watching Phichit's short program, this moment produces some visceral reaction within him. He's intaking air steady and deep, like he's ready to run a marathon (and maybe he's ready to bolt if Viktor does something too confusing, too-) and Viktor brushes off his knees and gives a not-innocent smile up at Yuuri through his fringe. His half-lidded eyes stare up through silver eyelashes, blink once, blink twice, and Viktor stands up and holds a hand out to Yuuri.

"Shall we go watch the other skaters? Or would you rather not?"

Yuuri shakes his head clear. "N-no, I don't mind watching."

They step into the viewing room near the end of Georgi Popovich's short program. Viktor hums thoughtfully.

"Wow, he really did scrap his entire theme in the last two months. Can't believe he's pulling it off," Viktor comments offhandedly.

Yuuri looks at the screen. And squints a little closer because he's not sure if that's dust on the LED screen or-

"Yep, he's crying. I win the bet," Viktor drawls, and pulls out his phone to presumably text his betting pool.

And while terrifying in its intensity, Georgi's step sequence is quite good. Yuuri can see the man netting high scores in the program components, and he's proven right when the competing Russian earns a 98.17, second place to his own score.

Yuuri relaxes himself with some simple stretches, grabs his water bottle from Viktor, and wanders over to Phichit and Guanghong just in time for Leo to start his short program.

Phichit and Guanghong are both very focused on the screen in front of them. "Yuuri, you'd like this song. Leo composed it himself!"

"Did he?" Yuuri pays extra attention because Phichit is extremely astute when it comes to Yuuri's tastes. Leo's song and choreography are perfectly in sync, each jump unforced.

"He's really polished it since Skate America," Phichit comments. Guanghong nods in agreement.

The three watch as Leo pulls off all of his combinations, his skating leading the music as much as the music leads his skating. Yuuri can see how purely Leo this program is - all of the younger skater's strengths are being maximized.

As Leo lands his final jump with confidence, Yuuri finds himself hopping with Phichit and Guanghong and cheering.

"What an amazing program after Skate America! Leo de la Iglesia's short program score is 87.98. He's currently in third place!"

"Wow," Guanghong breathes out.

"Weh," Phichit whines, "Leo beat me, tooooo." Yuuri pats his traitor best friend on the head in consolation. Viktor finally wanders over and drapes himself on top of Yuuri. He nods to Phichit and Guanghong, who both are too keyed up from the competition to fangirl over him.

"Let's see what spicy little number Chris has come up with this season," Viktor says.

"After Yuuri's spicy treat?" Phichit asks mockingly. He then puts on a falsetto. "Ooooo, Yuuri, my spicy boy in his little black dress~ take me away on your Eros!" And starts to fake swoon and drape himself against Yuuri.

"Dude, no thank you-" Yuuri tries to shove his asshole friend off of him, but Viktor makes things more difficult, as usual.

"Oh! Yuuuuri," Viktor exaggerates his accent and turns into dead weight on top of Yuuri, "my seductive playboy! Don't just tease me with your sexy moves!"

"Guanghong," Yuuri pleads, turning to the youngest and most sensible one of the group. "Save me."

"There's no room for me on your loveboat," Guanghong says matter-of-factly. "I'd be in your sensuous arms in a heartbeat."

CoC: Coalition of Conspirators. Yuuri's figured it out.

The music for Chris's short program starts and all of them turn towards the sultry notes echoing from the TV. And Yuuri feels the air in the room suddenly up its density and it feels like he's choking.

Phichit removes himself Yuuri and just faces the screen, eyes wide and arms hanging. "Oh my god."

Guanghong has his hands up as if to block his view, but there are clear gaps between his fingers.

And the only reason Yuuri doesn't just collapse on the floor is because Viktor's holding him up from the back.

And Yuuri thanks Viktor for his clear-cut commentary to lessen the impact of basically watching sex on ice. "He said he was having a hard time with motivation, but Chris never goes into a major slump. He's a slow starter, so he doesn't try to peak in the first event. Even so, he's really going all out with the sex appeal today," Viktor muses.

The announcer ends their mild discomfort. "Christophe Giacometti has delivered a euphoric short program! He's entranced us all!"

"There's Eros, and there's... sex, I guess," Yuuri comments. Viktor hums in agreement, not expecting anything less from his old friend.

"So the ice melted," Phichit states blandly. "Where are we supposed to skate tomorrow?"

Their banter gets interrupted by the announcement of Chris's score: 85.60.

And Yuuri feels like his world has been flipped upside down. He's in first place. Which means that everyone's coming after him in the free program. Which means he now has standards to uphold.

"At the end of the Men's Short Program here at the Cup of China, Yuuri Katsuki representing Japan is in first place! Skater Katsuki, you thoughts on the upcoming free skate?"

He had thoughts? What is happening?

"I-I -er- um- w-with my coach, Viktor, I'll win with- with the power of l-love!" Why does his mouth keep talking even though his brain isn't working? He must be some sort of lower life form, that has to be the explanation. It explains why he can operate without a brain. And it explains why his mouth says the dumbest things.

* * *

That hot mess of an interview ends somehow and Yuuri finds himself in presentable clothing and at a nice restaurant, sitting at an intimate table with Viktor across from him. Viktor's leaning on his hand, his smile and gaze so warm and affectionate that Yuuri is drowning in his own warmth, mixed with an underlying panic on the state of affairs.

He's in first place. How? He's in first place. That never happens. Hasn't happened since Juniors-

"Yuuri, what's churning in there?" and a long digit pokes Yuuri square on the forehead. Yuuri doesn't move, but he blinks twice before looking up at the finger, and its connection to a hand with a connection to an arm that is attached to Viktor Nikiforov.

Viktor Nikiforov, his coach.

Viktor, his friend.

Viktor, is wearing a really nice dress shirt and a waistcoat, top button at the collar undone and sleeves folded up neatly. He's staring at Yuuri.

"Stop staring. Just tell me if I have a smudge on my face," Yuuri grumbles. He's not blushing. He will not blush.

His face is also a traitor.

"I'm just very happy," Viktor smiles, drawing his hand back and the hand almost jumps back towards Yuuri, as though it's reaching for his hand. It doesn't, though, and Viktor leaves on on his side of the table. "I knew you could do it, have the ability to be the best."

His whole life since April is probably one long fever-dream.

"The top is where you belong, Yuuri. And you'll defend your throne with no trouble at all tomorrow," Viktor declares with full confidence, raising his glass of dark wine in gesture towards Yuuri before sipping. Yuuri nervously drinks from his water glass, and he's too weak-willed to break the sultry stare that Viktor levels him from above the rim of his wineglass.

Viktor's hand find its way to his hand, finally, and he feels his hand being lifted towards Viktor's face. "Gold tomorrow," Viktor promises, and kisses his fingers.

Yuuri wants the world to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little notes on the chapter-
> 
> Viktor playing footsie with Yuuri and Yuuri not knowing: been there done that. A friend's boyfriend thought I was my friend, and I thought some fucker was being an asshole and trying to encroach on my territory. It wasn't until she got up that he had the horrible realization that it was someone else's foot and I felt slightly dirty.
> 
> Yuuri smashing the fruit: I was sick of my friend taking food pics so I planted my finger straight into her ice cream.
> 
> The hot pot story: bless the French guy in my lab, but this is exactly how he discovered hot pot.
> 
> My excuses: I had to move three states over after my internship, fly home, deal with home, pack my boyfriend and myself up and drive across the entire width of the United States to move that fucker in with me, start school, deal with research, pretend I have some idea what I'm doing with my life, and battle crippling depression. Really wanted this chapter out before Ep 12, but eh.
> 
> At least it's a long chapter? I'll go back and do actual editing later. It's 5 am and I'm being yelled at to actually sleep.


	7. Episode 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The phrase is "make or break", but Yuuri is more than sure that it took his breaking to lead into his true making.
> 
> Also, it's never been so apparent that his coach is just as lost and confused as he is. Viktor Nikiforov is mortal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. I'm here. I'm also annoying the shit out of my bf by typing away at 5 AM.
> 
> No texting this chapter but Phichit is still Phichit and he'll find a way to be himself (don't get thrown off by the first few paragraphs).
> 
> Here you people are, the long awaited Episode 7. I hope I did it justice.

"I just don't think I'm meant for that life," Yuuri shrugs. He's sitting against the wall and opposite of Phichit's bed. Phichit is perched at the edge of his mattress, where he can occasionally extend a leg and meet his callused toes with Yuuri's. It's disgusting and Yuuri tells him that every time, but he neither pulls away nor does Phichit stop. So Phichit gently nudges his big toe at the meat of Yuuri's big toe, and while Yuuri can't actually feel it due to the calluses he does throw Phichit a very exasperated look.

"C'mon," Phichit pouts, "You can't just give up on your feelings and call it a day." He plunges his hand into an opaque bag with condensation on the outside. "Here, catch." He aims with a practiced hand, and Yuuri catches the projectile frozen blueberry in his mouth.

"Wouldn't it be funny if you threw a berry and it got lodged in my throat and I died and couldn't perform my free skate tomorrow?" Yuuri speculates.

"What would I tell the ISU?" Phichit mumbles through a handful of fruit bunched up in his cheeks. "Japan's Ace, done in by his hu-berries and best friend?" Hubris, he knows Phichit is purposely mispronouncing the word and trying to crack a pun but Yuuri is not about to give him that satisfaction.

"I would say that I died doing what I love," Yuuri says, and he lifts one leg to point his foot at the bag. Phichit complies and reaches in for another handful to give Yuuri. "Eating cheap frozen fruit from Walmart."

"Here," and Phichit holds out a handful. All the blueberries are slightly lighter purple in color. "Pretty sure these ones are sour."

"Then why are you giving them to me?" Yuuri complains, but he leans in to bite them out of Phichit's palm.

Even as he does so, Phichit shrugs. "Because you'll eat them anyways. But fuck, we should put these away - Ciao Ciao's gonna come back and catch us not sleeping."

Something doesn't feel right anymore. Yuuri's abdomen is vaguely unsettled, like he's eaten too much katsudon too fast. "We... fly out tomorrow, right? New York?"

The phone rings. Phichit's phone is ringing. He is unperturbed. "Did you turn off your phone? Your parents are calling me," Phichit picks up the phone and starts speaking in clear Japanese to his father. Yuuri clearly recognizes the jovial tone of his father, and the tinny sound of his congratulations over the phone.

"Congratulations!" "We're really fired up for you!" "-that was your-"

He hasn't talked to his family for months in Detroit - he thought they would at least admonish him for that. He's pretty sure that they have admonished him before.

"-hottest performance yet!"

"Keep it up in your free program!"

A cacophony of well-wishing starts emanating from Phichit's phone, and Yuuri winces at the building volume. With a guilty heart, he taps the speaker icon on the screen that Phichit is holding out to him. Except he realizes too late that the phone was never on speaker in the first place, and the volume gets impossibly louder and distorted. He hears the Nishigori triplets cheer and audio static builds up. Yuuri feels his neck heat up, hears his heart pound, and tastes something sour at the back of his tongue.

He taps the mute button. The volume gets louder.

Each breath he takes starts to feel shorter, warmer, more suffocating. He hits the phone out of Phichit's hand, ignores his friend's cry of distress, and-

* * *

-he wakes up. Yuuri doesn't gasp for breath, but his heart is pounding hard and fast enough to sound like a urgent and desperate drumbeat. It keeps his chest warm, and no amount of slow breathing will calm it down. His shirt is soaked through, and the basketball shorts that he wears for modesty are sticky with sweat and heat. Yuuri's mouth is dry, and he needs to pee, but if he gets up he'll probably not fall asleep for a while. If he closes his eyes now, he'll get another four hours of sleep and that's enough to be functional.

The alarm goes off a second later, at 8 AM. It's with resignation that Yuuri understands that he can sleep no longer, not if he wants to make it to morning practice. And it's with horror that Yuuri realizes his exhaustion is not the remnant of sleep in his eyes, but of him actually waking up almost every hour last night. His water bottle on the nightstand is drained from repeated drinks to calm himself every time he jolts awake. He tries to ignore the foul taste in his mouth, and picks up his phone from the floor where he dropped it after his phone call home. He can still hear his parents, his sister, Minako and the Nishigori family, all wishing him well like victory was rote. The words of encouragement vex him right now, and he is also ashamed of his vexation. Yuuri feels desperation well up in his chest as he haphazardly brushes his teeth. The press of exhaustion at the back of his head is like an inescapable blanket threatening to smother him, and his racing heart is the only thing wiring energy through his shitty body. He's going to go up there, exhausted by the end of practice and jumps and waiting, and try a Salchow and face-plant into the ice in front of China. He is going to ruin everything, even when he doesn't want to, but it's fine, right? Everyone is used to him fucking up.

But it's not. Yuuri spits out foam and his eyes don't quite register the slight pink of the bubbles against the ceramic of the sink. He fucks up here, everyone will know what he's been thinking for months - that he's a waste of Viktor's time. That even the illustrious Viktor Nikiforov couldn't save this particular sinking ship, and this coaching endeavor only added his body and his career to the fall of Yuuri Katsuki. Yuuri, get first on his short program? Fluke. Of course he can't keep up with the momentum. Oh god, and coupled with the Instagram picture of them two nights ago - Viktor was only with him for a booty call and let Yuuri continue on with his farce of a figure skating career.

Everyone's going to think that. It would ruin Viktor beyond any hope of returning. It's all going to happen when Yuuri fucks up.

His phone buzzes insistently against the marble of the sink counter top, and Yuuri can't actually feel his arm move to pick up the phone and answer. "Yes, Viktor?"

"Morning, Yuuri! You getting ready?"

Yuuri hums in acquiescence.

"Good, good - I set aside some fruit and pastries from the breakfast bar downstairs in our mini-fridge. You must eat those. I will do your hair and makeup at the rink, alright?"

He mumbles his compliance.

"Okay, I am sorry I could not be there this morning, but I'll see you here at practice. 9 AM, don't be late! Coffee is waiting here for you - good coffee!" The last bit is whispered like some conspiracy theory before Viktor hangs up.

Yuuri finds that he finished the rest of his morning routine in a stupor and ends up dressed, with his sweats and team jacket on top of his workout outfit, and sitting at the small coffee table in the hotel room. His pile of fruits and one croissant is sitting on top of a plate, everything chilled and dulled and generally unappetizing. He methodically picks up the banana first and starts to unpeel it. His mouth doesn't want to eat this - he doesn't know what he wants to eat - but he knows that Viktor will be upset if he doesn't feed himself. The churning in his stomach grows in intensity and that sensation of hunger-not-hunger becomes more prominent. He does not microwave the croissant and the cold pastry makes his tongue feel sluggish.

He forgoes walking towards the rink even though they've done so every time; the taxi would give him less time to be trapped in his head and lose himself in the noise of the public. Yuuri nearly forgets to pay the cabbie when he leaves the taxi, and something on his face keeps the driver from scowling at his fumbling of the different bills. Even the driver can sense how close he is to his end.

Yuuri hopes to stop by the restroom to splash cold water on his face and letting the chill of the rink shock him awake and steady his heart. Before he can step onto the rink, he comes face-to-face with Viktor.

He knows what he must look like: Final Exam Yuuri plus some imagining of Drug Addict Yuuri with a dash of Deathbed Yuuri. He knows Viktor well enough to see through the smile that tries to hide the other man's grimace. Ice-blue eyes scan his form disapprovingly and Yuuri feels a drop of water, damp and cold and uncomfortable, fall from his hair and onto his jaw, slipping down his warm neck and onto his neckline to enlarge the moist patches already there.

"Yuuri, you haven't slept, haven't you?"

Viktor's fake smile pulls like gravity trying to collide his overworking heart and his restless gut.

"I did!" His interjection comes out too loud and earnest. Viktor cocks an eyebrow. Yuuri feels even shittier. "A little. I slept a little bit."

Viktor's face looks immutable, his eyes lacking openness  His smile is frosty and it's everything Yuuri can't bear to see directed at him at this moment. "We're going back to the hotel," Viktor's tone soft, commanding, and leaves no room for a frazzled Yuuri to argue. Viktor spins Yuuri around by the shoulders and frogmarches him out of the rink, even as Yuuri tries to turn his head back towards the practicing skaters. He can vaguely see Phichit twirling around Chris like a lazy moon, both with their phones out; Guanghong and Leo occasionally venturing into each others' space and wandering away. Georgi is hard at work at a small corner of the rink, under Coach Yakov's critical eye.

"Forward," Viktor orders. And Yuuri walks. The way back to the hotel is silent and oppressive. Yuuri can't help but compare it to their other silent yet comfortable walks in the past. The closest he feels is that walk towards the beach on a cloudy day in May. There's no Makkachin here to soften the silence, and Yuuri's spiraling mind speculates that Viktor is starting to see what a mess he is, how he's coming undone, how he's going to ruin everything Viktor gave up to coach him for a season-

The hotel room door swings open and bounces slightly off the doorstop on the wall. Yuuri nervously takes off his shoes, ready for something - a reprimand, a lecture, something to change that expression on his coach's face. Viktor's stony face and saccharine smile keeps Yuuri in place as the other man briskly removes Yuuri's glasses, jacket, sweats. It takes time to peel Yuuri out of his Mizuno tee and athletic leggings, and Yuuri wonders if he suddenly gained weight that Viktor needs to shame out of him. His stomach feels too tight and while his heartrate has slowed, each beat feels more ominous and emphasized than the one before.

"Socks," Viktor states. Yuuri pulls off his socks. And as he (he's trying not to tremble) turns towards his coach in nothing but his boxer briefs, he flinches as Viktor's hands reach toward his face. Something goes over his head and his face, and when he opens his eyes he can no longer see.

He's not proud of Bewildered Noise Type D that escapes his throat. But it feels like Viktor literally suplexed him onto his bed and tried to smother him with his duvet. He gives a cursory struggle, but his overcooked brain is yelling that Viktor is doing a mercy killing and sparing both of them from the embarrassment of him wiping out after yesterday's build-up.

"Nap until this evening's event starts." And suddenly, everything about Viktor is soft and gentle. He feels muted pats through the duvet, like Viktor was coaxing some dumb, injured animal. He was, wasn't he?

God he's so fucking dumb, how did he let himself go up there onto the rink for Viktor? For his family? For himself?

Viktor's warmth becomes less abstract and more tangible as Yuuri feels the man lie right on top of his undeserving, useless body. The bigger frame on him wriggles a bit and settles, but all Yuuri wants is off off off off - his face is heating and his heart is trying to escape and he might be trying to asphyxiate himself with how shallow he's breathing.

"It'll be fine," Viktor's gentle, unaffected voice drifts up toward his ear. I always slept in until the last minute before competitions, too."

' _That's because you're Viktor fucking Nikiforov_ ,' Yuuri wants to yell, but he can't. Viktor's strange switch in mood puts him on edge rather than at ease, the calm like a hunter trying to lull prey into a trap. He can't afford to sit out of practice - he's not a international legend. He's some mid-tier scrub that had to stomp on some high schoolers to make it to China. And one of those high schoolers beat him last season.

"Viktor!" Yuuri tries to wriggle out of the blanket but a) Viktor managed to tuck him in snugly b) he's loathe to thrash about with his half-naked body underneath Viktor's. Too uncomfortable to the point of repulsive, too much like overstepping some boundary. "Did you even set an alarm?!" Viktor, bless his impressive selective hearing and determination to sleep, does not budge nor respond.

So he's left to silently bear the heavy sensation of his innards sinking, sinking, sinking - he didn't get enough sleep, he's skipping practice, he needs to not falter nor give a single inch to the other skaters gunning for him, he can't make his head and chest stop buzzing, he wants Viktor to fucking look at him and see him for what a disaster he is and either give up or impart some miracle wisdom to steady him towards his impending fall because it's bound to happen.

The building dread and helplessness compounds with what Yuuri imagines is the ticking of the hotel room clock (he knows it's a digital clock but he can't decide whether _tick tock, tick tock_  is worse than gentle breathing interrupted by the occasional hum of the air conditioner switching on). Bound to his position, Yuuri can't even exercise his muscle memory to the choreographic elements of Yuuri on Ice. He has the entire program playing through his head, trying to run it through in lieu of real practice, but it gets harder and harder to force himself to think the program through when he sees himself wipe out in a third-person view as his mind pictures his practice.

Quad Salchow. He lets out a shaky exhale when imaginary Yuuri touches down, but realizes he's at the wrong side of the rink and moving into the wrong spin. Camel? Sit? He shakes his head and starts over the thought exercise. He gets as far as his triple combinations in the second half when he realizes that his arms were hanging like limp noodles the entire time. By the umpteenth time, he can't even remember the entirety of the song without his breathing edging towards hyperventilation and his mind going haywire and needing to restart the song.

The thought exercises are doing more damage than help. He lies awake, both body and mind uncooperative until he hears a low growl that Viktor confirms as his stomach when the man sits up languidly and stretches. Or, at least, Yuuri feels him doing so.

"Lunch, Yuuri?" Quiet shuffling. "Oof, late lunch!" And Viktor peels the eyemask off his face. Yuuri doesn't make eye contact. He forces himself to nod.

* * *

Lunch only adds to the wrongness of the situation. Granted, Yuuri didn't eat much of substance earlier, but the gaping void that desperation leaves in his gut that he normally mistakes for hunger is not there. Desperation and despair, instead, sits heavy at the base of his throat and leaves him not wanting anything but water passing down his esophagus. Viktor indulgently pats his head and takes him to eat wonton noodle soup. It tastes nothing like ramen, and that isn't to say that it's horrible - but thin egg noodles forced down, salty broth too warm and smothering, and he can't even muster himself to pick at the vegetables. Viktor slurps everything down voraciously like always. Yuuri dares to look at the man's pristine, beautiful face. It'll probably be the last time Viktor looks so content and calm in his presence.

"Hmm?" Viktor puts down his chopsticks. "You look so impatient; we have a few hours before warm-ups. Maybe time for another quick nap?" His smile is too carefree. His assuredness in Yuuri's success is stifling. On the chance that he fails, Viktor will be made to look like a fucking fool for believing in him. He doesn't know if he can keep that from happening, and Viktor's almost whimsical and thoughtless trust is so heavy to bear.

"No more napping. I'm going to get groggy," Yuuri says. He sips at his tea before pushing his bowl away and excusing himself to the restroom.

He returns and Viktor is waiting at the entrance of the restaurant, check already paid. Yuuri stammers and offers to cover dinner later (after ruining his career in front of all of China), but Viktor waves him off and they walk towards the rink. Their late lunch could be taken as a very early dinner, as the Men's Free Program event is about to start when the two of them walk into the building. Yuuri finds himself checking out of the proceedings as Viktor steers them through all the official humdrum. They're in the locker room before Yuuri feels present again, and the chant of his innards telling him to flee, escape crash back full force. Viktor's warm hand, even through his leather gloves, cuts through that cacophony within him with a dampening fog of heat and anticipation instead.

"Yuuri, you'll need to remove your sweatpants and put on your skates." Yuuri nods almost frantically.

He kicks off his sneakers messily, and shuffles his sweatpants down past his free skate bottoms. Viktor hums and smooths the fabric of the bottoms, and reaches lower to adjust Yuuri's tight-socks. Yuuri is too off-balance to be anything but pliant as Viktor puts on his skates, eyes on Yuuri's face as he tightens the skates until some threshold indicated by Yuuri's apparent expression. Left skate, right skate, and Yuuri sits quietly and restlessly as Viktor neatly folds up Yuuri's pants and rolls them into Yuuri's skate bag. He gently prods Yuuri to move down the locker room bench until the fluorescent lighting is brightest on Yuuri's face. He probably looks sallow and dead.

"Keep looking straight ahead, there you go," Viktor murmurs, and he takes out his small makeup kit and places it on the bench. Yuuri closes his eyes and tries not to think about how the back of his throat is parched and stinging. Viktor must have removed his gloves, because Yuuri feels warm, smooth skin and a cool streak of moisturizer on his face. The rest of the routine of applying foundation, powder, and some liner, eyebrow pencil, lip balm, and pomade in his hair blends together until Viktor ushers Yuuri out to sit in the corridor. The other competitors are milling around in the corridor separately; not even friendship providing the bad manners to invade other skaters' personal space at this time. Yuuri doesn't look over at anyone, and he shakily inserts his earplugs into each ear. The noise of the rink dulls, but the fluorescent lighting seems to grow harsher in response.

Viktor leaves him to find a seat in the corridor, and he heads over towards some conversation or another. Yuuri doesn't care, can't care at this moment. He sits and nearly misses the chair. His fingers struggle to open the water bottle that somehow ended up in his hands. He keeps twisting right but the sweat of his fingers has become substantial and the cap won't budge. A shadow looms over him and he doesn't acknowledge whoever it is. Viktor's gloved hands reach toward his own and take the water bottle out of his sweaty grasp. One twist opposite of Yuuri's failed attempts, and the bottle opens. Yuuri knows he's done for. Viktor places the bottle on the empty seat next to them. He then reels Yuuri towards him by the shoulders.

It's his menacing disapproval smile. Yuuri tries to squirm out of his coach's grasp. That look is not helping anything.

"Yuuri, were you unable to take a nap?"

Yes. "No-!" Viktor gives him a gentle shake. "I did nap, I did!"

The force of Viktor's disingenuous increases. "I forbid you from doing jumps in the six-minute warm-up."

Viktor cannot be serious. Yuuri already fucked around all day doing nothing, and now more nothing? Is he supposed to attempt his jumps on blind faith?

"That's an order from your coach, Yuuri."

Yes, orders are orders but never has Yuuri felt so lost. Viktor's words, Viktor's smiles, Viktor's gestures all feel like Viktor is trying to shield Yuuri from his own shortcomings. It feels like an ostrich sticking its head under the sand. He can't help but to at least land a quad toe loop. It's the easiest jump. A moment's hesitation causes him to lose speed in his takeoff and he can only work towards bracing himself as he crashes down onto the ice. The icy sting is expected and confirms that he is lacking for tonight's program.

His six minutes are over, and he trudges away from the rink once Viktor hands Yuuri his skate guards with something that looks to be chagrin. This entire night is just going to be a slow spiral into ruination and Yuuri would rather a quick end, anything but this glacial glide towards the end. Viktor's cheer settles over his skin like how he'd imagine being bombarded with tiny cacti would feel. He removes his skates without Viktor's help, and shoves his feet into his sneakers haphazardly. "Well, it's common for skaters to nail something they flubbed during practice!" His forced laughter is so painful to hear. Yuuri knows that Viktor isn't happy about the situation. He doesn't know how he can help himself not fail, help Viktor not be embarrassed by his performance, can't stop time from marching forward closer and closer to his free skate.

"I apologize," he quietly breathes out. He is sincere. Yuuri knows he's out of chances to fuck up.

Viktor shifts the Makkachin tissue box to stop it from sliding out of his right arm. "Well, just continue warming up, nice and easy." His words, meant to reassure, are entirely negated by the out-of-depth expression on his face. Maybe Viktor never had to deal with measuring up to any weight beyond his own - Yuuri is fighting that battle right now. Yuuri tries to repeat Viktor's words in his head, tries to comfort himself with the fact that Viktor has an easy, casual belief in his success and that should mean that he's bound to succeed?

But what if Viktor is wrong? Viktor isn't infallible, and Yuuri is certainly full of flaws. What if?

What if?

The commentator's voice is so imposing and overpowers any weak attempt at self-bolstering in his mind.

"He's nailed all his jumps in the first half!" The commentator crows over the multiple TVs present in the corridor. All Yuuri can see is the tiny figure of Guanghong weaving back and forth in the camera frame, step sequence perilous in darting about like a car chase in an action movie. Yuuri feels _thump thump thump_  his heart raging and panicking and he's going to have to impress a crowd that's already getting a great showing-

He will care later that it's rude. Yuuri's crazy demon possesses him, and it's tunnel vision that has him stomping around the waiting area to shut off every echo of the commentators that he can hear. He collapses in his seat, feeling the shame of his actions from lack of discipline and maturity. Breathing is almost too difficult. He tries to cool off his feverish head in the palm of his hands, and elbows jabbing blooming red marks into his thighs. He feels his legs shake, rocking his entire body, a small whine escaping his throat but it is as if he's observing this happening from a distance. He knows he's fucked. He didn't get sleep, he didn't get practice, he didn't nail his jumps. He has the entire weight of Viktor Nikiforov's coaching and trust to carry to gold against skaters more accomplished, or more youthful, or more charismatic that him.

The crowd roars. The crowd groans. The crowd demands another skater. Yuuri hears Chris's teasing words and pointedly does not look up.

In the lull of the monstrous audience, Yuuri tries again to steady himself. He still needs to stretch. He has about thirty minutes before he goes. He can get up. Yuuri stands, trying to keep his legs from capsizing under the heaviness of his overheating head. He directs himself over to the wall, attempting some calf stretches to unwind the tightness that permeates his entire body.

The crowd roars. Lulls. Roars.

Yuuri feels his body tighten as though each cell is grasping desperately at salvation. Too much noise. He needs to focus on breathing. They always tell him to focus on breathing. But each gulp of air is a losing battle, wrestling oxygen through his mouth on shallow breaths. And suddenly it feels as if the carpet has been pulled from under him and he feels his feet resisting motion backwards. Viktor drags him to the end of the hall, pushes him to stand, and leads him into the stifling emergency stairwell and down flights of concrete. His head is fogged and heated from his overworking heart and suffocating lungs that he can't bring himself to be embarrassed that Viktor is holding him so tightly and desperately.

He's a sinking ship. Viktor needs to leave.

The final slam of the fire exit door muffles the crowd. It is but a gentle lull in the background, almost as if he was back at the beaches of Hasetsu. The stink of gasoline from the parking garage that they're standing in does not lend to the illusion, and the scent disorients Yuuri further. The crowd sounds like a summer storm, applause loud enough to penetrate underground. Chris must have finished.

The question is like a siren's call. "Viktor, what are the current standings?" He doesn't want to know. He needs to know. Doomed he may be in his skate, it might make him feel better to know whether he has a fighting chance at staying on the podium.

Viktor does not answer his question. His smile is too thin, too wide, and he holds his hands out like he's trying to calm a dying animal. "O-okay, Yuuri, first let's take deep breaths."

' _I know that_ ,' Yuuri wants to say, breathe out, cry out like he can't wait to exhale. He does not say anything. He wants Viktor to look at him, see what a mess he is. He can't stand this pretending.

"In, out. In... out." Viktor stays close. "Good, good. Okay, let's run through the choreography once. No sense in tiring yourself out - this song is about you. You know yourself."

He does know himself. He's a disaster, a train wreck about to happen. But he listens and follows Viktor's instructions like a lifeline, the only thing he has left in the final twenty minutes before he takes the ice. And it's fine, he feels the clamoring in his head fade and the heavy beating of his heart steady down to something more reliable and not more likely to drive him into cardiac arrest. He keeps the story in his head: he believed he was fighting alone, and he opens his life to love from others. He's not alone. They believe in him.

His heart sinks a centimeter, but only falters slightly. It's fine, he manages to finish the choreography impeccably. Viktor smiles (warm and not wan). He opens his mouth but the utter barrage of noise that interrupts is startling.

Yuuri feels his hand moving towards his ear. He can't stop himself. He jerks the earplug out and nearly starts sobbing at the applause and cheers that permeate all the way to their isolated parking garage. Looking up, the ceiling starts to spin in his vision. The sound becomes more and more imposing, oppressive, heavy rain threatening to destroy the very building they're in.

No. He can't. He can't face that. He can't follow that.

" _Don't listen!!_ "

Viktor's command echoes through the garage and Yuuri flinches, dropping his earplug even with Viktor's hands clasped firmly over Yuuri's ears. Heat is too much to bear. He is sweltering in his team jacket, air getting too dense to inhale. He's never heard Viktor yell like this. It terrifies him. His eyes stare at the imploring blue gaze of his coach for too long, and he feels his eyes becoming glassy. No. He can't cry. He's a fucking failure but he's not going to fucking cry in front of his coach, his friend, his crush, his idol. He'll go down standing but he's not letting himself cry. Even Viktor's easy trust is starting to break, Yuuri can see. He has to look away, even with his head still in Viktor's hands. He has to stay strong, even if he's breaking. Viktor's grip starts to strain his neck, the other man too tall for his own good.

"V-Viktor? It's almost time. We need to get back." He doesn't want to go, but he literally signed up for this. He needs to fight humiliation and deal with the fallout. If he doesn't go up there to skate, he's already lost. He doesn't want to go up there fighting a battle he can't win. He needs to go up there. He needs to prove his family and friends right. He needs to prove Viktor right. Even if he's falling to pieces, he can't run.

Yuuri removes Viktor's hands. The other man is staring down at him with an impervious expression. "We need to go," Yuuri repeats. One foot in front of the other, he tries to prompt Viktor to follow. No footsteps echo after his. He's alone, as he will be in the rink.

"Yuuri."

He normally would have a more polite response than just a questioning noise. Yuuri turns around to look at Viktor and feels everything inside him solidify at the grim expression on Viktor's face. This is it, this is the part where he dies, Yuuri frantically thinks.

Viktor is looking at him like an insect. Like in his nightmares, he dreams that he would skate on the same ice as Viktor Nikiforov. Like last year, he self-destructs and ruins a perfectly beautiful opportunity that his parents sacrificed for, Minako invested in, his sister and friends believed in. In those dreams, Viktor also looks at him like he's a disgrace. He's a waste of 18 years of skating.

"If you mess up this free skate and miss the podium...," Viktor starts, almost as if he is tasting the words. He sighs in resignation. "...I'll take responsibility by resigning as your coach."

He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. He's known the stakes at hand since the beginning. Impeccable Viktor Nikiforov, five-time Grand Prix Final medalist and Olympian, tarnished by throwing his lot in with inconsistent, woefully average, under-performing Yuuri Katsuki. He doesn't need Viktor to tell him that. He doesn't need to know the stakes, he lives them and dreams them and they're all he thinks about when he feels grateful that Viktor would deign to spend effort and time on him.

Maybe if he was a better person, he could walk away. He's not. His stubbornness and resilience have a breaking point, and hearing those words puncture the thin veil that was keeping his tears in. They overwhelm him, and he feels his chest ache and throb and breathing feels like fighting quicksand.

Viktor flinches. And Yuuri sees the words for what they are but that only starts to add fury into the mix of his heartbreak. He can't stay silent any longer.

"Why... would you say something like that, like you're trying to test me?" He isn't sure if words actually come out of his mouth, or if his stupid tears are drowning out his mouth. He can't bring his hand up to stop them, to wipe them away. He wants to pretend he's not bawling like a baby in a parking garage, running muddy tears with foundation down onto his jacket, a scant ten minutes before he needs to be on the ice. He's never cried. Tears of laughter, definitely. Tears of joy aren't as heavy. But actual heartshattered tears have never left his eyes in front of anyone. Yuri Plisetsky didn't count, he burst in. He's been teased, picked on. Mari's fought on his behalf, and he's fought his own fair share of battles against others in his bully days. No one has ever made him break. 

He's righteously furious through the terrible squeeze on his heart. Viktor has no fucking right - the words hurt, the carelessness of their utterance hurts, their intent hurts. Did Viktor think him so weak that he needed to be _manipulated_?! He's been battling himself for most of his life - he's gotten this far despite that.

He sees Viktor trying to tiptoe closer, gingerly placing his hands up defensively. "I-I, uh, I'm sorry Yuuri. I wasn't being serious-" And the apology is so lackluster, so shallow in understanding that Yuuri lashes out. He never wanted to say any of what he needs to say now. But he's so tired and wrung out that he needs Viktor to just shut up and pay attention.

"I'm used to being blamed for my own failures! But this time, I'm anxious because my mistakes would reflect on you, too!" He needs to know he's not skating just for himself, and the heavy burden that comes with Viktor Nikiforov's trust and belief. "I can't help but think if you secretly want to quit!"

"-of course I don't-" Viktor smiles again and again, he's not _listening_.

"-I know!!" This is just what anxiety is telling him. Yuuri knows it very well. But he doesn't need other people playing mind games with him when his own mind is already a part-time enemy.

The silence is awkward. Viktor sighs, looking lost. "I'm not good at all with people crying in front of me." He tries to catch Yuuri's eyes. "I don't know what I should do." Yuuri wants to look anywhere but at his dumbass coach. "Should I just kiss you or something?"

Yuuri's cheek flush but the indignation and cold fear that Viktor know his feelings dampen out any desire to shriek. How can one man be so fucking aggravating?! His tears start anew from frustration this time, and Yuuri is just so tired. "No! I just need you to have more faith than I do that'll I'll win!"

Viktor blinks helplessly.

"You don't have to say anything!" Yuuri feels his words claw desperately out of his throat. "Just stay by my side! That's all I need!" He feels like a puppet with its strings cut but before he can let himself collapse onto the floor to sob the rest of his water content out, Viktor grabs him in a steadying embrace. Yuuri's arms push against the other man's chest, unwilling to stand so close while so vulnerable, but most of his strength is being drained to cry.

"I don't need you to pretend I'm okay," he says, after a hiccup. He stops fighting Viktor's embrace when it's clear that Viktor's not imposing anything more. Just a steadying hold. 

"Okay," Viktor murmurs, hand coming up to smooth the back of Yuuri's hair. "You know I believe in you. I'm here because I believe in you."

"Then just stay there. I don't need you to tell me that," Yuuri breathes. "I just need to know you're here. I'll be alone on the ice, no matter what. Just support me until I skate out there." The tears stop, but his nose is congested. His face feels swollen, and there's no time to waste in fixing anything thoroughly.

Viktor pulls back from the hug, pointedly catches Yuuri's gaze, and nods heavily. "I will. We'll go up there now. It'll be you, and your music only." 

Yuuri steps back. He feels a bubble of hysterical laugher at the wet imprint his gross crying face left on Viktor's dress shirt. But he doesn't laugh. He feels weightless, really. No laughter, no tightness, no dread. He's already made a fucking fool of himself in front of Viktor Nikiforov, his equally foolish coach. He'll go up to that rink and eat ice like a champ in front of China. Yuuri leads the way back up towards the waiting area, stable footsteps up the stairwell and walking through the door that Viktor rushes to pull open. He breathes. Viktor's cologne lingers in front of him, despite the man following behind.

He knows he looks like a mess but the Cup of China isn't America's Next Top Model, no matter how much Phichit insists on doing his eyeliner for competitions. The corridor leading to the competitor's tunnel and the entrance of the ice is free of any person obstructing his long walk forward. The crowd is raucous, of course, but the sounds feel so far away. Even the strange, loud roar of (maybe?) despair that echoes past the murmurs of the audience doesn't cause Yuuri to falter. Viktor hovers, not touching Yuuri, but guides him towards a seat near the doorway. Yuuri methodically takes off his sneakers (instead of kicking them off), and slips his feet into his skates. Takes another breath before he tightens the skates, Viktor standing near and not crouched down as is his current tendencies.

Then Viktor sinks down into a squat, lower than eye level to Yuuri. "Let's do something about your face, hmm?" His warm hands move the leftover foundation about on Yuuri's face, blending away the swath of tear tracks and snot trails with no regards to hygiene. Viktor pulls out his Chanel lip balm from the inside pocket of his coat, and dabs a generous amount onto Yuuri's lips. Yuuri keeps his eyes closed.

He feels Viktor stand up, and he too stands. The skates, weighty as they are, aren't even an afterthought as Yuuri finally steps next to the partition. The next step is to remove his skate guards, and he also hands them over silently to Viktor.

"Georgi Popovich's total score is 252.44. He's in third place," the commentator's voice resonates around the rink. The audience cheers.

His mind is blank, no music, no story, no feeling, but he doesn't feel bothered. He breathes, and it feels like inhaling the first breeze of spring as he steps out onto the ice and swings around to face the partition. His meditative breathing is cut short by the sudden stoppage in his nose, and he slightly sputters. He's still congested, but that's what Makkachin the tissue box is for. Yuuri unzips his jacket and hands it off to Viktor in exchange for a tissue. He tries to blow his nose as quietly as possible, knowing he can't just run off to the restroom at the moment.

Yuuri pulls the tissue away and as he crumples the paper, he sees Viktor holding his gloved hand out for the tissue ball. His eyes are gorgeous, like always, but Yuuri is more focused on his expression now. _I'm sorry. I'm here for you. Please let me be here for you._

Laughable. He... really put this ridiculous man on a pedestal, didn't he? Viktor is just as human and fallible as he is. And he finds that he's already forgiven Viktor. 

The petty part of him fakes Viktor out and drops the tissue beyond his hand, and as Viktor swoops down to catch the tissue Yuuri puts all his grievance into a single, powerful poke at the other man's hair whorl. Viktor's little noise of dissatisfaction comforts him, and Yuuri can't help but be a little meaner and really rub his finger in. He reaches the threshold of when he knows Viktor will start whining, and retracts his finger to replace with a gentle pat.

_Forgiven. Now watch._

He pushes off towards the center of the ice, arms open to feel the gentle cascade of applause. He hears nothing of what the commentators are saying. Yuuri reaches the center, and ends with a smooth T-stop. He hasn't fallen onto the ice yet. That's good.

The singular melody of the piano starts and his face turns up, towards the ceiling. Reach up, stroke to start moving and melt into the song. He feels his face smiling. His body, exhausted just an hour before, feels free. Viktor's deer-in-the-headlights expression when he started to cry was priceless. His smile grows.

He twizzles across the ice, bringing his arms around in resigned loneliness. Crying before a competition is odd - he's definitely cried after a competition. Maybe he should do it more often. He almost loses himself in the melody, and has to remind himself that his quad double toe loop is coming up.

He nails it. The jumps feel better than he thought they would, considering he either hasn't practiced them within the last 24 hours or ate ice when he tried.

Now, back to the pros and cons of crying before or after a competition. He's not too fond of crying in front of people, and it's not like Celestino would be ridiculous enough to make Yuuri cry. Honestly, Yuuri has to admit that Viktor's too inexperienced as a coach. He let himself be blinded by the shiny veneer of Viktor Nikiforov, indomitable figure skating champion, that he forgot that he wanted to see Viktor as himself. And Viktor as himself, as caring and affectionate and strange and enthusiastic as he is, is still dense. Still a little flighty. Exists in his own little world sometimes. It's not like Yuuri's anxiety is anything new. Viktor's flailing in face of it, while amusing, was also exasperating. Viktor was dumb in not preparing for it.

Viktor is dumb. Hah. Yuuri lands the quad Salchow he forgot to worry about. He has no time to be pleasantly surprised by his success. The camel spin is a welcome lull for him to remember that he's in his free skate, and he should probably be focusing on the theme of his skate. 

Love. And he thinks about it, and isn't this what love is? Meeting someone halfway, through their messes and his own messes and still seeing something worth fighting for, worth preserving? He's still here despite his colossal fuck up last year, and it's for himself as much as it's for his parents who have tirelessly supported him all his life. His sister, who has given up on leaving Hasetsu as long as he is able to. Minako, who dedicated years into molding him into something beautiful. Yuuko, who gave him his love and dreams in the first place. Nishigori, as the tide he fought and the support he can count on now. Their rowdy triplets, making this entire season happen. Phichit, making three years of friendship feel unbreakable and Detroit survivable. Viktor, who opened his eyes.

The violin and drums pause. He steps into his lunge at the quiet but sure notes from the piano. And then up, spread eagle, arms out, then up, then down and Ina Bauer. His favorite triple axel comes next but he realizes that he spent a little too much time thinking and doesn't build up enough speed. He touches down, but otherwise, he doesn't think he did half-bad for not practicing it at all during warm-ups. He has to remind himself that a triple flip is next - he feels oddly relaxed to the point of having his head in the clouds during this skate. It doesn't feel real, almost.

He lands his triple flip, and the most insane thought plagues him. What if he switched his final quad from toe loop to a flip? If Viktor's lost expression was priceless, whatever face he would have on at an ending quad flip would probably sustain Yu-topia Katsuki for generations to come.

Yuuri is trying to maintain his serenity in face of the rogue thought of Polaroids of some outrageous facial expression of Viktor's, being traded in at the local bank like bonds. He over-rotates his Salchow in his triple axel, single loop, triple Salchow combination. He gets up, ready to brace for the soreness and exhaustion from hitting the ice. It doesn't come. He's not tired at all, and maybe he's delirious or ascended beyond mortal needs. But it's no hardship to cleanly land his triple Lutz and triple toe loop.

He is close to the end, just the step sequence and final jump. He can do it. He's not tired at all. He has come this far with the love and support of everyone. And for the first time in a long time, it feels as though the path ahead is clear - that he can become better and stronger. His desire to do so isn't weighted down by hesitation and fear. And maybe, he can surpass Viktor's expectations, even his wildest imagination from when the man decided to support Yuuri.

He has everything to gain by trying. And it's like everything falling into place, as he shifts his takeoff for a flip. There's no time to change his mind, unless he wants a double helping of ice and hoarfrost. And the landing comes all too fast and he's not ready for it but-

"I-It's a quadruple flip!! He fell, but there appeared to be enough rotations! The quadruple flip was a signature move of Viktor Nikiforov-"

He gets up. He doesn't miss much time. He continues onto his combination spin into a sit spin, out, and tango stop with arm out. The piano dies out.

He hears the commentator going ballistic, the crowd demanding, but he doesn't care. Yuuri's chest is heaving with the oxygen he didn't realize he was lacking. His body almost feels frozen in its pose, but he coaxes himself out to stand dazedly on the ice. What _is_  the expression on Viktor's face? Anger? Tears? Embarrassment? Maybe annoyance, since Yuuri could have stuck with a perfect toe loop instead of a botched landing flip? He wishes, not for the first time, that his eyes weren't so sensitive to contact lenses and he could at least see his coach's body language from all the way out in the center of the rink.

Right, Viktor should be standing behind him based on his ending position. He turns. Viktor isn't there. He blinks, and his poor vision captures a brown smudge darting its way around the rink. Viktor's brown coat.

From far away, Viktor's enthusiasm in meeting him at the Kiss and Cry catches on and Yuuri can't help the fawn-like manner that his skating imitates as he pushes towards the Kiss and Cry exit. "Viktor!" the name tumbles out of his mouth. Even being pissy at him five minutes ago (it feels so long) is enough to cause a backlog of affection and earnestness towards the Russian man.

"I did great, right?" he feels half-drunk. He nears the partition and the exit. Viktor's face, while not sharpened in his vision, is clearly showing the softest, affectionate smile towards Yuuri. What is he supposed to say? Viktor isn't saying anything, so clearly, he should-

Heat envelopes him, so prominent through his thin costume. The lingering cologne, forgotten in the chill and rush of air on the ice, hits his nose with full force. He was looking at Viktor before, but all he can see is the brown squares of the ceiling tiles. He blinks, and all he sees is Viktor's eyes, eyelashes, blue ring around dilated black, and a warm puff of air onto his lips and around his face. He supposes his imagination did get it right. The sheer novelty of the moment keeps his eyes open, even though he know theoretically this should be very romantic, Viktor's eyes are closed, Yuuri's idol-turned-crush is crushing his plush lips against his chapped ones, and holding his overheating head tenderly. What the fuck.

Yuuri's back slamming against the ice is like a wake-up slap. But Viktor is still there, on top of him, hand cushioning his fall. Smiling at him with that new smile and looking at him with such raw emotion that Yuuri is sure the force of the fall is the only thing keeping him from looking away. Viktor's left hand comes up, cupping Yuuri's face in request for permission. Yuuri feels his heart beat fast and light, and he might have to fish himself out of a melted Yuuri-shaped hole in the ice from the heat coursing through his body. He lets himself lean into the hand, and Viktor brings his face closer. His face is almost wistful, longing.

"This was the only thing I could think of to surprise you more than you've surprised me," and that beautiful, heart-breaking smile - not that thin veneer from the past - has Yuuri shakily exhaling with enthrallment.

 _You ridiculous man_. "Really?" He's pretty sure that reality diverges from when he started crying, and that this is the crazy Twilight Zone-type universe. But he doesn't want reality if that's the case.

The officials stammer behind Viktor and ask them to please go to the Kiss and Cry for these things and they do. He wins silver, after Phichit. And he's not sure how many more emotions his shitty body can take because it's fierce pride and camaraderie for Phichit, disbelief and exhilaration at his silver, anticipation and giddiness from that- that- _kiss_??? and he's just so tired.

* * *

After the podium and pictures, the reporters flock towards the rink in droves. Phichit fields his questions with energy to spare, before diverting their attention to Chris. Yuuri has already given the reporters over to Viktor to handle as he does best.

"Hey," Phichit greets, walking over towards Yuuri. His skates slightly drag at the ground. "That was fucking amazing."

"You're amazing," Yuuri counters. "First place in China and a place in the history books. All because you're a huge nerd for a movie." He gets a playful shove for his trouble.

"But we need to talk." Phichit is quite solemn when he places both hands on Yuuri's shoulders. "Do I have to fight the Russian mob or is Nikiforov not under their protection?"

He knows, and he knows Phichit knows, and he knows that Phichit knows that he knows. " _Dude_ -"

"He made you cry! No one makes you cry except for you!" Phichit whispers urgently. He reaches over to squeeze Yuuri's nose. "I'll kick his ass."

"Yuuri?" And Chris ambles over. Damn it. "I thought you looked a little off before your skate." He turns to Phichit. "I'll have a talk with that idiot - all that toner must be getting through his skull and melting his puffball brain," he says resignedly, the French lilt of his words adding to his disappointment.

And Yuuri doesn't know what to do but laugh. He laughs and shakes his head. "I'm okay - we just have to... to work it out." Phichit opens his mouth. "Between ourselves," Yuuri adds pointedly. Phichit closes his mouth.

But he opens his goddamned mouth again. "Well, Ciao Ciao got to him first," he gestures, and in the distance the older Italian coach, expression hidden, is practically looming over Viktor.

The three of them accept what they see and turn back towards each other again.

"So," Phichit tries to start, but Yuuri holds up a hand.

"I'm not talking to you about it before I talk to Viktor about it," Yuuri states strongly.

Chris laughs. "This is a good day - for all of us. You'll be good for him, Yuuri," the Swiss skater says, before patting Yuuri's butt and walking away. Yuuri's too tired to stop him, and just lets it happen.

Phichit swings an arm around Yuuri, pulling him in for a side hug. "Night out with the young boys - Leo, Guanghong, and us?"

"Nope, I'm exhausted." Yuuri uses Phichit as a support for his drained body. "I freaked out all last night and couldn't sleep."

"So we saw Final Exam Yuuri and Ascended The Mortal Plane Yuuri out there today?" Yuuri groans. "We need to see Drunk Yuuri on ice," Phichit suggests in wonder. Yuuri groans again.

* * *

In the end, Yuuri wins the debate and he's allowed to go back to his room and sleep. He's obligated to hang out tomorrow, and he will definitely do so. After glorious sleep.

Viktor flutters around him the entire time from the rink back to the hotel room. He nearly smacks Yuuri in the face in his enthusiasm to help Yuuri don his jacket, is cheerful and efficient in removing Yuuri's skates and putting on his sneakers (which Yuuri is too exhausted to want them tied so he stands up amidst Viktor's protests about his shoelaces), and just downright hovers. "Yuuri, you must be thirsty-" "-should we get dinner?" "-your feet must ache; I'll draw you a warm bath and let you soak-" and on and on, definitely talking but not talking about. The kiss.

Yuuri frees himself from his shoes as soon as he's in the doorway of their room, and starts ripping off his jacket and sweat pants and unzipping and shimmying out of his free skate costume without a single damn. He's so tired. He needs to shower and wash his face and sleep. He hears Viktor stammer in the background but the bathroom door shuts before he can really think about it. Now off with his dance belt to freedom.

Ugh, he stepped into the stall with his socks. He peels them off. And turns the water to the point of scalding. He probably falls asleep halfway through washing his hair because Viktor is suddenly in the bathroom, outside the foggy glass of the shower stall door. 

"I realized that you didn't bring a change of clothes with you into the bathroom," he says too calmly. "I brought some in for you, and I wanted to make sure you didn't fall asleep in here. It's been thirty minutes." 

"Okay," is all his dumb mouth can say. "Thanks," he adds. At least he didn't forget his manners.

Viktor leaves and shuts the door. Yuuri finishes his shower uninterrupted, and steps out into the steamy bathroom. His clothes lay neatly folded on the sink countertop, glasses next to the pile. Yuuri towels off, reaches over for his boxer briefs before it hits him that Viktor had to touch his underwear.

"Don't be stupid," he says to blurry Yuuri in the mirror. "The man kissed you. Touching your underwear is something that naturally comes along." 

Blurry Yuuri seems to respond with, "Kissing doesn't linearly lead to underwear touching. Those two have nothing to do with each other."

Yuuri glares balefully at his reflection. "Well I wouldn't fucking know."

He puts on his underwear and resignedly lets his body blush. He pulls his shirt over his head and shorts up to his hips and walks out of the bathroom, collecting his shed articles of clothing in shame.

"That's a recap of a show I didn't expect to see anytime soon," Viktor's wry voice says from the far corner of their room. The older man is reclining in the hotel armchair, lazily browsing on his phone. He is in his pajama pants and his pajama shirt is loosely buttoned.

"I'm sorry?" Yuuri doesn't understand. He drops his sweaty pile of sweat next to his luggage. That's a problem for future Yuuri.

Viktor smiles, but it's a tentative one. Not the pure, raw display of emotion from when he tackled Yuuri onto the ice. Not like after the. uh. Kiss.

"You're very exhausted, aren't you? You should get some rest. We can talk tomorrow."

"We should talk now." Yuuri is emboldened by the dim lighting, the warm sluggishness in his bones after showering, the exhilaration of making the podium, the pride in surprising Viktor with the quad flip. He's exhausted, but he needs to know while he's brave enough to ask.

Viktor doesn't shrink, but his position in the armchair grows less languid as Yuuri trudges closer to him. Finally, Yuuri is standing right before him, in front of Viktor's knees.

"What does it mean?" Yuuri hears himself whispering.

Viktor puts down his phone completely, and holds out a hand halfway. He waits until Yuuri feels sure enough to place his own hand in contact, and long fingers fold over the touch. "It means that I quite like you."

Their hands feel much too warm for normal human temperatures. Yuuri feels the weight of how intimate this situation is. He's puzzling over the right questions to ask, the right direction for their discussion. "Did you figure it out?" Viktor looks at him for further clarification. "That I...I l-l-liked you too?" Ugh god, he's flushed from head to toe but come on. He's not in fucking high school, what was his mouth thinking?

Yuuri feels Viktor's hand gently pull and he lets his body follow. His body follows onto Viktor's lap, his legs spread to straddle the other man's legs to keep from plowing straight into his chest. Viktor's right hand never leaves Yuuri's left, and Viktor's left hand steadies the body on top at the hip. It feels like a decadent dream, Yuuri can barely think, when Viktor's eyes drop to a half-lidded stare and his smile is so much closer to his own face and- "If I knew that earlier, I would have not made you wait for that kiss." Yuuri swallows all the spit that has gathered in his mouth. Probably very unattractive. The hand at his hip strokes small, calming circles into his bones. "May I?" Viktor asks, forehead almost touching his.

"S-sure? Go f-for it, I mean-" and Viktor lets go of Yuuri's hand to finally cup his face and guide their mouths together. It's so warm and soft, and close. If close can be a distinct sensation, that is. He's not sure if he's moving his mouth the way he's supposed to, or if he's just lying there like some dead fish, or do people like tongue? That's a thing, right?

And Viktor parts from Yuuri. His thumb is massaging the probably permanent blush on Yuuri's face. "You don't have to be nervous," Viktor says, imploring and honest. His eyes stare so... something-ly into Yuuri's. It's almost overwhelming.

A nervous laugh titters out from Yuuri's mouth. "I, um, I've never done t-this before," he stammers. He closes his eyes tightly after those words leave him. He's probably making everything awkward. Viktor's going to change his mind, and they're going to stop doing this. Kissing. 

"Yuuri." Yuuri cracks his eyes open a sliver. "Please look at me, Yuuri." He opens his eyes in trepidation. Viktor's expression hasn't changed, except it gained a hint of chagrin. "I want to kiss you." Yuuri can't pretend his heart didn't tear free from its cavity in attempting a gymnastic routine. "Do you want to kiss me?" He nods. His lips feel heavy. He licks them nervously, and feels his breath catch when Viktor traces near his tongue with his thumbnail.

Viktor's look turns mischievous and Yuuri feels shivers go down his back. "Then as you know, practice makes perfect," Viktor murmurs before meeting his lips again. And Yuuri tries to react to Viktor, to respond in kind. He feels the heat of Viktor's lips gently moving against his own and they're just a pair of lips and they're literally just being smashed together but the heat in his brain builds and spills down behind his neck, his own mouth addicted to the strange collision between him and Viktor.

They part again for air, but this time, Yuuri earnestly dives back towards Viktor's face. He's all eagerness and desire to meet, and oh, he feels Viktor's hot mouth shifting along until a gentle tug pulls on his bottom lip. Strong hands on his hip and cheek keep him from melting into a puddle of pliant goo at that sensation and he presses his body closer to Viktor, chest meeting chest. Yuuri can keep doing this for the rest of the night, until he feels himself lazily detach from Viktor's lips and slump onto the man's shoulder.

"I really like you, Viktor," Yuuri mumbles. He's never said it before, but it feels right. Viktor has met him every step of the way in their relationship. It's only courtesy to make clear his feelings in return.

"And I really, really like you, Yuuri," Viktor murmurs back. His hands move to the small of Yuuri's back and the back of Yuuri's head. "We should get some sleep."

Yuuri is already drooling away on his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, life got really busy. I finished my master's thesis (ish), and now I need to turn it into a paper and study for my PhD qualifying exams. I actually drew inspiration for Yuuri's impostor syndrome/anxiety breakdown at Viktor... from a very similar argument that I had with my bf about me passing quals and everyone saying that I will. In my case, I was being a big asshole and deserved the fight I got.
> 
> The ending is based off of how my first and only relationship started. It's okay to know nothing until you're 23, my dudes. (or know anything ever. go at your own pace, if you will OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO)
> 
> Dream Phichit only differs from real Phichit in that he can speak fluent Japanese.
> 
> I'm really thankful that those who read this continue to support and wait for me. Thank you so much. I'll respond to previous comments soon, after my own sleep.


	8. Interlude: #bjadventures2k16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Cup of China.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't get excited for Ep 8 y'all, this is a first of more than one interlude chapter. Felt like more had to be written about after the kiss, and any of this wouldn't have fit in with the next chapter. I also like how I ended the last chapter, so this little snippet has been made into his own man. Or something something.
> 
> With how everyone was hyping about finally getting to the Episode 7 in the past, I expected more yelling. I probably missed everyone by months and it's finals time so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Feat. more kissing and more feelings.

Warmth becomes more and more apparent as time passes. The buttery sensation soaks into his chest, first and foremost; the insides of his arms and thighs feel like heavy warm pudding (that's exactly what it feels like and he's half-awake so either fight him or get out). His first conscious breath of the morning brings awareness to his body and Yuuri realizes that no, he's warm but certainly not comfortable, and his body is screaming at him for sleeping in whatever position he let himself pass out in. Neck muscles flame up in protest as he raises his head, the tackiness of dried drool on his jaw clearly present. The junction of his thighs feel twisted beyond their limit of yield.

Yuuri pushes himself up with his sore arms, blinking blearily at the bizarre sight in front of him. A gentle touch brushes his fringe back once, twice.

"Good morning, Yuuri," Viktor murmurs across the minuscule expanse between their faces. Yuuri can't look away. Viktor's eyes are sleep-touched, wrinkles and eye crust from just waking up; his normally impeccable hair has little cowlicks all over; and the slightest hint of stubble adds some shadow on the man's jawline. His breath is not pleasant. But it's all Yuuri can do to keep himself inhaling and exhaling at a proper pace, knowing that he crossed some sort of line with Viktor last night. He's sitting in Viktor's lap right now, and the closeness is threatening to overwhelm him. He'll do himself a favor and just ignore the morning wood between the two of them - one crisis at a time.

In his haste to get off of Viktor, Yuuri's sleep-numbed limbs lose strength and he collapses in a sad heap in front of the armchair. Viktor is immediately by his side, kneeling down and hands on Yuuri and radiating concern. Yuuri can feel the surprise and slight apprehension from Viktor with how fast he moves free from Viktor's touch, but contact is too confusing right now. He feels lost in the light of day, unsure how the sunlight changes the context of words and actions under the cover of night. "I'm gonna go shower," he mumbles quickly before he scrambles toward the bathroom and shuts the door harder than he wanted to.

It's not like Yuuri's heart is beating fast. They kissed last night, and it felt nice. But he's not sure what he's supposed to be feeling now - giddiness? Excitement? Anything? Beyond a soft 'wow' escaping his mouth, he's not feeling anything except a strange form of clinical clarity. Yuuri grunts in irritation at his boner catching onto his shorts and boxer briefs as he sheds them. At least that wasn't. Er. Hm. Okay, it's awkward now that he's thinking it, that his dick was basically poking Viktor all night. No no no no no, Yuuri will not think of that as he vigorously brushes his teeth. He spits out the excessive foam from his mouth. He heads toward the shower but his shirt is still on, head still occluded with internal debate.

After ensuring that he didn't toss his shirt into the toilet and that it landed safely on the floor somewhere, Yuuri turns on the shower to a pleasant cool temperature and steps into the spray. So if he doesn't feel anything, does it mean he doesn't actually like Viktor? The thought is terrifying - it means that he's in less control of his mind than he already is, and that he's was basically going crazy for the last few months over fake emotions. What?

No, he is certain he likes Viktor. Why else did he let Viktor so close? And sure, it was a little overwhelming to have Viktor right there when he woke up, but Yuuri's not going to lie to himself: he feels a mysterious shame? embarrassment at having someone being within his personal space. But again, this is back to their talk on the beach, Yuuri lectures himself. He knows that he hates getting close to others - it means seeing his weaknesses, his flaws, and everything that will show the truth that he's barely holding himself together most of the time. And yet, he admitted it to Viktor. And promised to let their relationship bridge that gap, provided that Viktor met him at his own pace every step of the way. So Yuuri supposes that this little 'relapse' is just a natural reflex, and that change doesn't happen immediately and perfectly. Okay, okay.

The cool water washing down his back is hypnotizing, and Yuuri finds his gaze focusing back onto the tile in front of him. His eyes swing further and right, he's still hard. Either he lets it soften on its own or he might as well conduct another experiment. The kiss felt good, so there had to be some component of desire there, right? And if he just could figure out the specifics, he can call it a day and tally up for further progress in his introspections. His left forearm braces against the shower wall, and his right hand loosely grips the tip of his dick. Yuuri lets his thumb rub against the head of his dick and feels sensation, but every time he remembers to think about Viktor and his heated makeout session he forgets to move his hand. After a few seesaw moments of rubbing dick versus imagining making out, Yuuri gives up. Maybe he's not ever going to be able to imagine whatever when he masturbates. Fine. But he's now fully erect and he's probably at the half-hour mark in the shower, and the time it will take to jack off will waste enough water to name his dick the sole destroyer of China's clean water supply.

Water shut off, and he lazily towels himself off. The same briefs on, since he already showered last night and fine, maybe one day he'll stop being a gremlin but that day isn't today. He forgot to bring his day clothes into the bathroom and will have to go outside and change. Yuuri feels lazy and slightly emboldened (they're dating now, right? He doesn't have to be that modest and change in a separate room? If not dating, they kissed?) and instead of having to put his shorts and shirt on, and take them off again to replace them with his day clothes he'd rather just walk out in his briefs and only put on clothes once. That's perfectly reasonable justification.

He glares in the mirror, looking at the asshole that keeps making things excessively complicated. He doesn't need to justify shit - he lives at a hot spring. Viktor's seen him in too many states of undress already, one more won't hurt the man. Kissing changes nothing. He grabs his glasses from where Viktor placed them on the counter last night, and walks out.

"Shower's free," Yuuri says. He sighs at the sweaty pile of clothes that he left on the floor last night. He's such an asshole. He gets to work at straightening out his costume and packing away his dirty laundry.

Viktor doesn't respond. Yuuri assumes the man is busy with his toiletries and finishes his packing. He pulls out a pair of clean jeans and socks, resolving to at least put on pants before hunting for a shirt.

His pants are on his hips and Yuuri feels a light touch on his right shoulder before he can button his jeans. Yuuri freezes. Another hand touches the other shoulder and both softly stroke along his biceps. It's... comforting, Yuuri admits, but he's pretty sure he would have thought it creepy if it was anyone other than Viktor because 1) he's a human-shaped octopus genius figure skater, and 2) making out probably means touching is okay.

Yuuri forgoes the button and turns around. Viktor's hands come in contact with his skin again but this time, they both cup his face at the jawline. Yuuri lets his hands naturally settle at the man's waist, fingers marveling at the cut of muscle of Viktor's body. Viktor's eyes are blinking slowly at him, the fan of his eyelashes almost coy. "May I?" He asks, like last night. His breath is still foul, but Yuuri doesn't care that much. Yuuri tilts his head up and Viktor languidly brings his mouth down towards Yuuri's. Away from the haze of feelings and exhaustion from last night, Viktor's lips feel soft and pleasantly cool. Heat only comes when hands stroke along his jaw and fingers brush behind his ears, and the heartsick feeling of being close and intimate with someone sparks in Yuuri's chest, down to his abdomen. The insistent push and pull of Viktor's lips feel like mindless, positive physical contact and is heightened by Yuuri's realization that it's Viktor kissing him, Viktor pulling him closer, Viktor arching his body to make them touch at every inch of their heights.

The friction is nice, but his dick straining against his boxers and resting on the junction of his pants zipper is not nice at all. Yuuri reluctantly pulls back, and he feels like he's observing Viktor Nikiforov as if the other man is a new species. Sleep-mussed hair is even messier, face is flushed, blue eyes dilated, chest heaving to pull in air, lips blotchy and swollen. His expression is dazed and mouth is slightly hanging open, probably without Viktor realizing it. Yuuri's lips feel a little beat up, and can't help biting them in and licking them wet. Viktor's throat bobs exaggeratedly as he hears the other man swallow. Yuuri has a sudden, alarming pang of desire like someone set out a bowl of his mother's katsudon.

"You should freshen up," Yuuri says, stepping back towards his luggage to finally remove his dick from the zipper of his pants, button his pants, and put on a shirt. Viktor is unmoving, only blinking and a hint of his eyes moving up and down. Yuuri ignores him and bends over to pull out a t-shirt that should be clean.

"R-right, we should go have breakfast soon," Viktor responds, and Yuuri hears him pad off towards the bathroom and shutting the door with a lot more care than Yuuri.

It's nice, Yuuri thinks, that Viktor is as affected by what they're doing as he is. Along with that thrill of intimacy, that visceral joy and desire at seeing Viktor so obviously messed up by Yuuri and enjoying himself is enough payoff for Yuuri to keep kissing the other man forever. This sexual desire thing took him awhile to get right, but he sees the hype now (or at least he thinks he does).

Viktor exits the bathroom, steam following his usual impeccably neat self. Face radiant, hair in place and styled, clothes nary a wrinkle and hanging perfectly on his form. His smile isn't the large, heart-shaped beam aimed at Yuuri during the early hours of the day (bless Viktor but Yuuri wants to smother the morning person in him with a pillow), but a soft smile with beautiful, closed lips.

"Hey," Yuuri says lamely.

"Hey," Viktor responds in kind. The two of them stand in front of each other, silence and stares dragging on until Yuuri dares to walk forward and try to close the distance between them.

Viktor holds Yuuri back, hands on his forearms. "No, wait," Viktor begins, and sighs. "The two of us aren't really good at... at talking, yes?" He's sheepishly smiling at Yuuri.

"No, I guess not," Yuuri admits. "So, talk now?" He offers, fighting his gut feeling to flee from anything remotely awkward.

"Yes," Viktor affirms. The taller man leads them to the closest bed, and they both sit down at the same time with stiffly perfect posture and turn towards each other.

The ridiculousness of their mirrored actions cause both to break out into nervous chuckles and giggles. "Okay, okay," Yuuri holds his hand out to stop them both. "We should talk. Okay."

Viktor looks down at his lap and looks back up at Yuuri's face, lips curled in a tentative smile. "Yuuri, I really like you - I have for a while now." And holy shit do those words feel heavy- "And I just didn't know if we were on the same page, and I'm sorry for just jumping on you like that yesterday."

Viktor holds his hand out, and Yuuri gladly meets his hand with his own. Viktor's hand closes around Yuuri's. "I'd like to think we're on the same page now," Viktor continues, not looking away from Yuuri even once. "Can we be something more than just coach and student? Just friends?"

Yuuri brings his thumb up to stroke along the skin of Viktor's hand. "I've been your fan for so long, Viktor," Yuuri's voice is hushed and it feels like he's confessing dangerous secrets. "And then I became your student, and then your friend. And I started liking you as-as more - along the way, I started to like you as more, I mean," he stumbles over his words. "I only want you in whatever capacity you're willing to give me, Viktor."

Viktor brings his other hand up to cup Yuuri's face, and Yuuri finds himself quickly noting that as his new fatal weakness. The hand holding his between their bodies switches to lacing their fingers together. "As friends?"

Yuuri exhales. "Of course."

Viktor's thumb starts to rub Yuuri's cheek. "As boyfriends?"

Yuuri feels his face involuntarily heat up. "S-sure."

Viktor sighs. His thumb stops moving. "Yuuri, I don't want anything you don't want, okay?" His blue eyes, so clear to Yuuri despite still haven't put on his glasses, seem to implore him for an answer. "Do you want me as your boyfriend?"

Yes he does. What the fuck. His heart is beating against his ribs. He still needs to say something. "Yes," Yuuri finally says. And just for that thrill- "Please be my boyfriend, Viktor," and the expression on Viktor's face feels like he's biting into the most succulent fruit of summer.

Viktor's mouth cocks into a coy smile and he leans in to kiss Yuuri again. Morning breath gone, Yuuri finds himself almost high off of the scent of Viktor's aftershave. Heady inhale of that mouthwatering scent, the warmth of Viktor's face and the soft, cooler sensation of Viktor's expensive-as-all-fuck lip balm being smeared between both pair of lips, that hand moving from his jaw up behind his ear and up to his hair, carding through the strands and nails scratching along his scalp and Yuuri feels himself exhale some hum of approval against Viktor's mouth. Viktor only presses against him tighter and a scrape of teeth against his lower lip-

A loud rhythm of knocks against the door interrupt their entanglement. Viktor and Yuuri jump apart, and upon realizing that whoever at the door wasn't about to go away, Viktor stands up to adjust his clothes and face before heading towards the door. He looks through the door viewer and flinches. He hastily rubs at his lips with a finger, pats his face with his fingers, looks over at Yuuri and hesitates. He ultimately decides to open the door himself.

Minako storms into the room. "Oh _ho._  Oh _ho ho_ ," she says menacingly. Viktor does not meet the older woman's eyes. Yuuri is keenly aware that he looks like a debauched mess, but Viktor already opened the door. 

"おはよう," Yuuri mumbles. 

"You're not sweet-talking out of this," Minako continues in English. Yuuri is so bewildered - he wasn't aware of himself trying to get away with anything. Minako whips around towards Viktor, who was still standing like a punished child near the door. "So you _did_  have intentions towards him. All that talk before at my bar, and you-"

"Minako, I assure you, I-" Minako raises a hand and Viktor immediately shuts up.

The older woman looks at Yuuri as if she was trying to inspect a crime scene. A clinical hand grasps Yuuri's jaw in a vicegrip and turns his head back and forth, searching for something. Yuuri does not protest, only trying to keep his eyes from being in contact with his former teacher's. Seemingly satisfied, Minako lets go of Yuuri after a moment.

"You two are big boys, so I'm not going to lecture. _But_ ," she punctuates, "Please be adults in whatever you decide to do." She turns towards Viktor first, "I cannot say for you, Viktor, but as I know you better Yuuri," Minako swings around towards Yuuri, "Make sure you guys talk to each other. None of this grand-gesture-bullshit only, okay?" She makes sure that both Viktor and Yuuri nod. She nods herself and stomps out of the room, grumbling about "internationally-broadcasted kissing like dumb teens" and "not even the courtesy to ask his parents first". "I'll see you two back at Hasetsu," her voice calls down from the hallway outside their room.

Once the surprise of Minako's appearance settles, Yuuri and Viktor look sheepishly at each other and the two let a few snickers escape them. "I guess she's okay with us dating?" Yuuri says weakly.

Viktor pinches his nose bridge and sighs. "I've been interrogated enough whenever I happened to drink at her bar for the night. I don't think she was prepared for anything to happen the way it did yesterday."

Yuuri laughs incredulously. "You talked about this with her?"

"Yuuri," Viktor says patiently. "I did say that I liked you for a while, didn't I?" And yeah sure, but actually confirming that fact is mind-blowing. Wow.

"Let's go to breakfast, I promised Phichit yesterday," and Yuuri leaves it at that.

* * *

"You can't sit with us," Phichit says. He, Guanghong, and Leo are sitting at a round table in the hotel's breakfast area. Chris is sitting at a small table nearby, speaking quietly on his phone and picking at his breakfast buns.

"Phichit, don't be a jerk," Yuuri says with a sigh. Viktor is standing behind him, holding both their plates of fruit, pastries, and bowls of porridge and pickles. 

"I meant that Nikiforov can't sit with us," Phichit clarifies, "We need to have _words_."

Yuuri picks up a peanut from the small platter among Viktor's hold and throws it right at Phichit's forehead. "Ow!" "Stop being a drama queen!"

Chris finishes his phone call and inserts himself into the conversation, fortuitously standing right next to Yuuri. Yuuri sighs and cocks his hip towards Chris, and Chris appreciatively gives Yuuri's right buttcheek a loving squeeze and pat. "Oh, don't look at me like that, Viktor - come, let's leave old friends to have some fun together." Chris coaxes Viktor into leaving Yuuri's portion of breakfast at the table, and steers him away after. "We old people can go and do old people things, like keep Georgi company." Viktor throws one longing glance back towards Yuuri, but doesn't fight Chris maneuvering him away.

"Alright, Leo, you can put your foot down now." And Yuuri sees Leo remove his leg from the seat that Phichit pushes out for him.

"Dude, did you really have to?" Yuuri grumbles as he sits and starts on his porridge. He's a little regretful on wasting one of the peanuts - they're absolutely delightful.

"Just because you forgive him for a little kissing and emotions and blah blah doesn't mean he didn't make you upset earlier," Phichit reasons. "And I bet my bun that you didn't even talk about that yet."

Yuuri reaches over for Phichit's bun, but Phichit holds on strong. "Look me in the eye and tell me you guys talked about that upsetti-spaghetti before your skate." Yuuri gives a feeble tug on the bun.

"No, we didn't," he admits and lets go of the bun. Phichit triumphantly takes a bite out of the pastry. "We'll talk about it at our own pace, but other things came up."

"You better talk about it, okay?" Phichit threatens. "I know you hate showing some weakness, but dude. Can't date if you can't talk." He turns towards Guanghong and leers, and like Yuuri, Guanghong retaliates with a peanut to Phichit's forehead.

"You're going to give him chronic acne at that spot if you two keep doing that," Leo says as he sips his tea, eyes on his phone. 

"He deserves it," Yuuri responds casually, but either way, he's glad to have a friend like Phichit.

* * *

He's not glad to have a friend like Phichit. Yuuri looks up towards the sky, hoping for a spontaneous alien abduction. The Instagram video looping on his phone, with the Snapchat text of the peach emoji banded at the center, is a continuous zoom-in of Yuuri's butt. Phichit's chant of "Big booty~ big booty #1!" buoys over the cacophony of Beijing's streets. The hashtag is #bjadventure2k16.

"You are definitively the worst friend ever," Yuuri says, even as he hands an ice pop over towards Phichit.

Phichit shows no hint of remorse on his face, even as both Leo and Guanghong cackle over the video. "I'm the number one source of Yuuri Katsuki fan material. You can't kill me."

"I can fucking try," Yuuri says with a threatening lick of his ice pop. Leo and Phichit take the lead on their exploration of Beijing, Guanghong not interested in the surroundings and Yuuri not bold enough to take lead in unfamiliar environments.

"You're not from Beijing, right?" Yuuri asks Guanghong.

Guanghong slurps his soy milk drink and shakes his head. "I'm from the South - Dongguan actually. I'm not crazy tall like these Northerners," he explains after a gulp of soy milk. "If we were down there, I'd be able to show you guys around proper, but in this case I think Phichit and Leo are having more fun wandering around." Guanghong's face is slightly flushed.

Yuuri can be unobservant but he's not blind. "What's up with you and Phichit?" Guanghong snorts his next sip of soy milk. "Did he discover an embarrassing secret about you and is now lording it over your head?"

Guanghong takes a tissue out from his jacket pocket and wipes his face. "Yeah, actually," he admits quietly. He looks up at Yuuri. "Does he do this often?"

Yuuri can't help but commiserate with the Chinese skater. "Try living with him for three years."

The two of them let Phichit and Leo wander further ahead, their cameras out and pointing at something or another. Guanghong stares after them. "He figured out that. Uh. I have a-a-er acrushonLeo," the younger skater blurts out.

Yuuri blinks. Guanghong flushes furiously. "That's... pretty innocuous and exactly like Phichit." They keep walking, but at a distance from the other two skaters. "He's good at smelling any hint of drama and weakness from someone. He's not going to tell anyone," Yuuri hastily reassures Guanghong, who starts to look more alarmed as the minutes pass. "He's... just gossipy, and he's intending something out of good? _I'm sure they're good-_  good intentions."

"What's good about teasing me? Besides being petty?" Guanghong pouts. "I-I just really like Leo, y'know? We really hit it off at Skate America, and ugh I, er." Yuuri really commiserates with the younger skater. "I don't know what to do," Guanghong quietly concludes.

"I'm not the best person to talk to this about," Yuuri comments. Guanghong's look is so full of judgment that Yuuri has to raise his hands. "Okay, I know, but that was Viktor being himself and he's just really an extra person so I-he-whatever," he pauses lamely. "Look, you like being his friend, right?"

Guanghong nods. "You also feel something more towards him, right?" Guanghong nods again. "Liking him doesn't stop you from being his friend, and being his friend is ultimately more valuable," and the words do sound right. He's gained something more with Viktor recently, but even if he lost it, being his friend was still a net gain. "Don't let your feelings get in the way of being friends and enjoying your time with him, and whatever happens from that will happen regardless."

Guanghong quietly digests Yuuri's words. At his small nod, Yuuri wipes away his nervous sweating. "Was it like that with you and Viktor?"

"More or less, I suppose," Yuuri says carefully.

"Hey, guys!" The two of them look at Phichit, the source of the noise. "Stop gossiping about your love lives back there!"

Guanghong and Yuuri look back at each other. Yuuri bends down to pick up a dry leaf. "Wanna stick dry leaves into Phichit's hoodie without him noticing?"

Guanghong runs towards a tree on the side of the road and stuffs his pocket full of dried leaves. He turns back to give Yuuri a thumbs up.

* * *

Yuuri leaves their little skater tour group early afternoon, needing to check out of the hotel with Viktor and head to the airport. He meets Viktor back at the lobby, the other man with Chris and the two of them chatting quietly with a despondent Georgi on a couch.

"Viktor," Yuuri calls out, hand reaching out to greet the trio. Viktor turns, smiles, and it's suddenly quite natural to keep his hand out and meet Viktor's in a loose handhold.

"I already checked out for us, and brought our luggage down," he gestures towards the suitcases next to the sofa. "We should head out soon; I remember the security checkpoints being quite congested around this time."

Viktor turns to give Georgi a comforting grip on the man's shoulder, a quick hug to Chris (and Chris giving air kisses on Viktor's cheeks), before grabbing the suitcases and hurrying with Yuuri towards the exit.

"Did you have fun with the younglings?" Viktor smirks as they make idle conversation in the taxi.

"Just say it," Yuuri grits his teeth.

"Phichit has the best videos," Viktor says in a sing-song voice. "Mr. Big Booty #1~"

"The next time you eat a fruit," Yuuri declares, "I will destroy it with my bare hands. It will know my wrath and you'll never eat fruit in peace again."

"Don't be so sour, Yuuri," and how Viktor croons his name like he's trying to serenade him, wow, "I just find you very attractive and appreciate your friend showcasing your attractiveness."

Dating Viktor will probably continue being a surreal experience.

"That's-I mean, compared to you, you're literally gorgeous-" Yuuri's going to shut up now. He shuts up.

He feels a soft, cool touch on his cheek. He turns to find Viktor leaning back, eyes crinkled and lips stretched in a warm, wide smile.

Wow.

He settles back into his seat. Viktor reaches over to entwine their hands in a hold, but otherwise faces the front of the taxi. They see the congestion leading up towards the direction of the airport.

"We should probably talk about the. Uh. Crying thing," Yuuri says. He feels himself blushing. Ugh, that's the last time he ever listens to Phichit.

"We should." Viktor's thumb automatically stroke Yuuri's skin. "I want to apologize, again even if I did so before. I didn't mean to make you cry. I only wanted to help you and let careless words hurt you."

"And I'm sorry," Yuuri adds on. "I don't tell you much of what I need from you as a coach, and I can't expect you to know with how inexperienced you are."

"It's just, this-this feeling; it's like a cage. I know I can do things, but I don't _feel_  I can do things. It becomes this spiral of feeling like I'm trapped and can't escape, and I just...," Viktor's thumb continues its stroking, a calming rhythm lulling Yuuri to continue talking, "I just need someone to ground me. I know it'll be just me and the ice in the end - I just need to stay strong until I can get out there. Words and platitudes feel too-too heavy, and I don't know," Yuuri sighs. "I can't explain it any better."

"And now I know," Viktor says softly. "I'll be there. I'll make sure you can walk out there on your own, nothing more and nothing less. But you need to talk to me, okay?" The thumb stops moving and Viktor laces their hands together. His fingers pulse a grip on Yuuri's hand. Yuuri's fingers grip back.

"I'll try." Viktor shoots Yuuri a wry look and Yuuri returns a sheepish look. "I mean-I'll do that. Thank you," Yuuri exhales, feeling lighter. Okay, he'll listen to Phichit more often. But honestly, he can really get used to this - feeling like he can be close to someone, to have someone want to be close and hold him through his weaknesses. Being able to bare himself like this, and whatever fears he had about doing so, none have come to pass.

"We all have to skate out there on our own," Viktor muses quietly. "It's very true."

Yuuri lets him think to himself, and turns his attention outside his window. Smears of gray skies and greenery and dull white buildings blur together in the distance.

He almost doesn't hear Viktor murmur. "Alone... but we don't have to be. Now, there's a thought." He sleeps until they reach the airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It'll take a while to get to Ep 8. I'm low-key freaking out about my exams (which aren't happening until Aug but dude wtf I have to demonstrate 'mastery over two disciplines in my field blah blah blah' and I don't know anything okay airplanes fly bc black magic).
> 
> Guanghong's comment is just a thing my family grumbles about a lot as southerners lol
> 
> Those who are still reading, thanks for sticking around. I'm thinking of doing a flashback interlude on some Phiuuri adventures in Detroit, and maybe something on the boating incident picture that was alluded to in earlier chapters.


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